CENTRAL  CIRCULATION  AND  BOOKSTACKS 

The  person  borrowing  this  material  is  re- 
sponsible for  its  renewal  or  return  before 
the  Latest  Date  stamped  below.  You  may 
be  charged  a minimum  fee  of  $75.00  for 
each  non-returned  or  lost  item. 

Theft,  mutilation,  or  defacement  of  library  materials  can  be 
causes  for  student  disciplinary  action.  Ail  materials  owned  by 
the  University  of  Illinois  Library  are  the  property  of  the  State 
of  Illinois  and  are  protected  by  Article  16B  of  Illinois  Criminal 
Law  and  Procedure. 

TO  RENEW,  CALL  (217)  333-8400. 

University  of  Illinois  Library  at  Urbana-Champaign 


4UN 1 


When  renewing  by  phone,  write  new  due  date 
below  previous  due  date.  L162 


Return  this  book  on  or  before  the 
Latest  Date  stamped  below.  A 
charge  is  made  on  all  overdue 
books. 


U.  of  I.  Library 


4= 


Mrw  3i  idff 

hfln  3l 


fill-  o. 


4UU  o 


0, 


\\ 


RPR  30  1853 


iar^  O*’  35^ 

JUl  *^3  !S5p 

DEC  13 
R?fl  2^  Ej 


16  1S9 


i98:t 


m 

MCV  0 7 I3i^ 
3EC 1 3 w®5r 

«0V  2 3 1983! 


^ VJji 

HOV  21^83 


tO 


*^^JUN  0 6 1395 
m 1 0 1395 

JAN  0 !)  1996 


17625-S 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/hypnotismOOclar 


HYPNOTISM 


by 

Jules  Claretie 


Chicago 
F,  T.  Neely  J 
1892 


f'r 


TO  DOCTOR  PAUL  HORTELOUP. 


Bear  Doctor  and  Friend: 

Permit  me  to  dedicate  this  study  to  you  in  memory  of 
our  many  conversations  on  the  redoubtable  and  alarming 
question  of  magnetic  suggestion,  a subject  on  which  you 
sometimes  accuse  me  of  being  too  much  of  an  enthusiast. 

Though  you  emphasize  and  lay  stress  on  their  danger, 
you  are  less  fervent  and  have  less  faith  than  myself  in 
these  matters;  but,  after  all,  I merely  relate  what  I have 
seen,  give  voice  to  what  I have  studied.  Within  and  with- 
out the  walls  of  the  Salpetri^re,  in  experiments,  in  the 
writings  and  testimonies  of  learned  specialists,  I have 
sought  the  proof  of  that  suggestion  which  some  day  will 
arise  before  the  magistrates  as  the  most  terrible  of 
juridistic  problems;  and  the  story  I am  about  to  relate  is 
the  result  of  both  my  observations  and  reflections.  I 
hope  that  the  day  will  come,  as  many  predict,  when  it 
will  be  possible  to  make  use  of  hypnoptic  suggestion  in 
therapeutic  and  moral  matters  to  cure  the  body  and 
modify  the  state  of  the  soul.  In  the  meantime,  I fear 
this  redoubtable  force,  which  might  perhaps  be  utilized 
for  good,  may  become  a formidable  arm  for  evil  and  crime. 
But  then,  all  discoveries  have  their  perils,  progress  its 
two  blades,  like  certain  knives;  powder,  the  cause  of  so 
much  bloodshed,  has  nevertheless  made  a breach  in  the 
Old  World,  through  which  the  future  marched  on. 

Therefore,  my  dear  Doctor,  pray  accept  this  legal- 
medico  study  as  a problem  of  criminality  which  I have 
contemplated  face  to  face,  and  especially  as  a testimony 
of  my  deep  and  grateful  affection. 


Your  devoted  friend. 


Jules  Claretib.” 


HYPNOTISM. 


CHAPTER  I. 

He  had  been  attracted  to  Montmartre  by  the 
vulgar  curiosity  of  the  popular  festival,  by  the 
appetite  for  those  foreign  gaieties,  which,  to 
his  pessimistic  mind,  seemed  still  more  ironical 
and  irritating  than  the  fashionable  kermesses 
of  which  he  read  in  the  newspapers. 

Jean  Mornas  experienced  a sort  of  painful 
voluptuousness  in  intensifying  his  distress  as 
the  son  of  a poor  niggardly  bourgeois  by  con- 
trasting it  with  the  silly  laughter  of  the  crowds 
around  the  stalls,  the  animation  of  the  marks- 
men in  the  shooting  galleries,  and  the  screech- 
ing music  of  the  wooden  horses,  turning  inces- 
santly like  the  flight  of  dead  illusions  or  the 
whirlwind  of  withered  leaves  on  a boisterous 
autumn  day.  The  heartrending  melancholy  of 


c- 


HYPNOTISM. 


the  hand-organ  penetrated  his  being  with  the 
acuteness  of  a human  shriek;  and  yet  he  re- 
mained there,  in  the  midst  of  the  vulgar,  jos- 
tling crowd,  until  at  last  the  exterior  boulevard 
began  to  be  deserted,  the  lights  in  the  stalls 
died  out  one  by  one,  and  slumber  and  shadows 
fell  heavily  on  the  tents  of  the  mountebanks 
and  the  long  rows  of  peripatetic  merchants,  the 
fronts  of  whose  shops  closed  in  succession  like 
so  many  tired  eyelids. 

At  last  all  were  closed;  there  only  remained 
a few  of  those  little  booths  where  the  young 
men  of  the  wandering  tribes  played  strange 
games  for  small  stakes  with  the  sparkling  eyes 
and  contracted  lips  of  fashionable  gamblers 
risking  a fortune  at  a baccarat  table. 

After  watching  the  players  for  a long  time 
with  evident  interest,  for  to  him  it  seemed  only 
natural  that  Everyone  should  try,  and,  if  need 
be,  steal  for  gain,  Jean  Morn  as  thought  of  re- 
turning to  his  gloomy  quarters  in  a little  house 
in  the  Latin  Quarter,  and  slowly  turned  away 
from  the  long  lines  of  stalls  now  almost  all  en- 


HYPNOTISM. 


veloped  in  darkness ; the  only  lights  visible  be- 
ing the  dull  gleams  filtering  through  the 
dark  green  curtains  of  a few  of  the  tents. 

As  he  went  down  the  Boulevard  de  Roche- 
chouart,  toward  the  Place  Pigalle,  which  he 
was  obliged  to  cross  to  reach  the  left  bank  of 
the  river,  he  was  thinking  of  the  free  life  of  the 
mountebanks,  now  huddled  together  in  their 
movable  houses,  of  those  wanderers  of  modern 
times  who  attend  all  the  fetes  and  fairs  with 
their  monkeys,  serpents  or  tigers ; and  a flood 
of  foolish  ideas  of  emancipation  and  Bohemian 
pleasures  rushed  through  his  brain,  as  he  con- 
jured up  visions  of  their  happy  life  in  the  open 
air.  His  dreams  of  this  ideal  existence  w-ere 
not  of  long  duration,  however,  for  as  he  went 
down  the  deserted  street,  gazing  vacantly  be- 
fore him,  he  caught  sight  of  a slender  girlish 
figure,  hurrying  along  the  now  deserted  Circus 
and  closely  followed  by  two  men  of  suspicious 
appearance  who  seemed  particularly  anxious  to 
overtake  her. 

As  the  trio  hastened  on,  the  flaring  gas  lamps 


8 


HYPNOTISM. 


casting  their  shadows  upon  the  sidewalk,  there 
seemed  to  exist  a sort  of  ironical  antithesis 
between  the  woman’s  graceful  outlines  and 
the  heavy  figures  of  the  two  ruffians  behind 
her. 

The  apparition  of  a woman  alone  on  the 
streets  at  that  hour  interested  J ean  Mornas  at 
once,  and  he  watched  the  group  attentively. 
Suddenly  a shriek  pierced  the  stillness  of  the 
night.  One  of  the  men  had  seized  the  young 
girl  by  the  wrist,  and  she  had  called  for  assist- 
ance. 

The  two  ruffians  had  already  disappeared 
amongst  the  long  rows  of  silent  stalls,  when 
Mornas,  who  had  rushed  forward  at  the  first 
call,  arrived  at  the  young  girl’s  side  and  caught 
her  fainting  form  in  his  arms. 

Mornas’  first  thought  was  that  he  appeared 
a little  ridiculous  in  his  role  of  knight-errant, 
and  he  asked  himself  if  it  were  not  a very 
stupid  and  frightfully  vulgar  adventure;  but 
under  the  light  of  a gas  jet  he  quickly  per- 
ceived a long  scratch  on  the  pretty  little  hand 


HYPNOTISM. 


9 


of  the  unconscious  girl  he  still  held  in  his 
arms,  from  which  the  blood  was  flowing,  and 
taking  it  gently  in  his,  he  examined  it  closely. 

Hanging  from  the  wrist  which  one  of  the 
men  had  seized,  Avas  a small  silver  bracelet, 
from  which  was  suspended  a charm.  The  brace- 
let had  been  broken  in  the  short  struggle,  and 
one  of  the  sharp  points  had  pierced  the  skin 
and  caused  the  long  red  mark. 

It  was  a miracle  that  the  men  had  not  taken 
the  humble  ornament  when  they  attacked  the 
woman,  but  her  cries  had  no  doubt  alarmed 
them  and  they  had  fled  without  securing  any 
booty. 

Jean  gazed  at  her  face;  she  was  quite 
young  and  very  pretty ; her  pale  features  were 
singularly  sweet  and  intelligent.  When  she 
recovered  consciousness,  her  first  movement 
on  perceiving  the  stranger  was  one  of  terror, 
but  J ean  quickly  reassured  her,  saying : 

“ They  have  gone.” 

She  understood  him  at  once,  and,  though 
still  trembling,  and  with  an  expression  of 


10 


HYPNOTISM. 


alarm  in  her  strangely  haggard  eyes,  she  in- 
stinctively placed  her  right  hand  upon  her 
left  wrist  and  examined  the  broken  bracelet  in 
evident  anxiety. 

‘‘  Are  you  searching  for  something,  Mad- 
emoiselle?” asked  Jean. 

‘‘Yes,  a small  medal,”  she  replied. 

The  medal  was  still  hanging  at  the  end  of 
the  silver  wire,  however,  and  a joyful  smile 
came  to  her  lips  as  her  eyes  fell  upon  it. 

“ Ah!  ” she  exclaimed  with  a sigh  of  relief. 
“ But  I must  thank  you,  Monsieur,”  she  added. 
“Had  it  not  been  for  you — ” 

“For  me!”  echoed  Jean,  in  surprise. 

“Yes,  those  terrible  men — ” 

“Oh!  I had  little  trouble  in  scaring  them 
away,”  he  interposed.  “ They  were  already 
far  from  here  when  I reached  you.  “ But,”  he 
added,  drawing  closer  to  her,  “how  do  you 
happen  to  be  in  such  a place  at  this  hour,  and 
alone?” 

“ I was  detained  at  the  shop,”  she  replied, 
unhesitatingly.  “ And  besides,  I am  never 


HYPNOTISM. 


11 


afraid.  This  is  the  first  time  apyone  was  ever 
attacked  in  this  neighborhood.” 

“ Do  you  live  near  here?”  asked  Jean. 

‘‘  Yes,  quite  near.  At  Montmartre.” 

She  bowed  to  him  with  a sweet  expression 
of  gratitude  in  her  eyes  as  she  said  this,  and, 
still  keeping  her  hand  upon  the  charm  of  the 
broken  bracelet  as  if  she  valued  it  above  all 
else,  she  made  a movement  as  if  to  go  on. 

But  Mornas  firmly  and  respectfully  insisted 
on  accompanying  her.  He  declared  he  would 
not  abandon  her  in  the  darkness,  where  her 
former  aggressors  might  still  be  lying  in  wa*t; 
and,  in  all  confidence,  she  allowed  herself  to  be 
escorted  to  her  home  by  this  young  man,  who 
walked  at  her  side  as  if  he  were  an  elder 
brother. 

On  the  way  Jean  Mornas  learned  who  she 
was : A working  girl,  living  with  her  mother, 
and  returning  home  a little  later  than  usual 
that  evening,  having  been  detained  at  the 
shop  by  pressing  work. 

She  spoke  in  a low  voice,  in  a timid,  yet  dig- 


12 


HYPNOTISM. 


nified  tone.  Mornas  liad  not  questioned  her, 
and  her  simple  confidences  came  quite  natur- 
ally as  from  a young  girl,  who  was  gradually 
recovering  from  the  violent  emotions  she  had 
experienced  a few  minutes  before  and  now 
tried  to  make  light  of  her  adventure. 

‘‘  Nevertheless,  had  it  not  been  for  you,  my 
poor  medal  would  have  been  carried  off.” 

“And  you  also.  Mademoiselle,”  interposed 
Jean. 

“ And  I also,”  she  repeated.  “ But  perhaps 
one  protected  the  other.” 

Then  after  a short  pause,  she  added:  “My 
mother  gave  me  the  charm.  The  only  one  I 
have.  And  the  medal  is  the  one  I received 
when  I made  my  first  communion.  That  is 
why  I value  them  so  highly.” 

Mornas,  who  was  imbued  with  all  the  skepti- 
cisms of  the  day,  was  greatly  surprised  at  this 
last  confidence.  He  had  certainly  not  expected 
to  hear  such  words  at  that  hour  on  the  boule- 
vards of  the  old  suburb.  But,  after  all,  he 
had  long  since  ceased  to  be  surprised  at  any- 


HYPNOTISM. 


13 


thing  he  might  meet  in  Paris.  He  was  well 
aware  that  the  great  city  contained  all  sorts  of 
people,  paste  amongst  its  jewels,  and  jewels 
in  its  .mire.  This  young  girl,  to  whom  he 
listened  with  such  interest,  was  certainly  noth-  ^ 
ing  of  an  actress  and  evidently  spoke  with 
innocent  truth.  Jean  Mornas  even  experienced 
a joyous  surprise  at  her  words.  It  seemed  like 
the  incense  of  his  former  beliefs,  a perfume  of 
his  youth  caressing  and  soothing  him  with  its 
fresh  sweetness. 

As  he  crossed  the  Place  Pigalle  at  her  side 
and  gazed  at  the  long  lines  of  gas-lights  on  the 
empty  boulevard,  he  asked  himself  if  it  were 
not  indiscreet  to  escort  this  child  to  the  very 
threshold  of  her  home 

‘‘Oh!  no  indeed,  you  do  not  inconvenience 
me  in  going  to  the  door,”  she  said,  in  reply  to 
his  half  hesitating  excuses.  “ And  if  it  were 
not  so  late,  mamma  would  be  only  too  happy  to 
thank  y-i  for  what  you  have  done.  Poor 
mamma! — how  anxious  she  will  be  about  me 
in  future—’  I am  half  inclined  to  say  nothing 


14 


HYPNOTISM. 


about  it.”  Then,  after  a pause,  she  added: 
“But  yes,  I must  tell  her — I tell  her  every- 
thing.” 

Her  innocent  babble  almost  seemed  like  a 
joyous  spring  chorus  in  that  chilly  night;  the 
girl’s  childish  voice  surprised  and  charmed 
him.  He  could  have  wished  that  this  night 
might  last  forever,  and  that  the  walk  might 
last  as  long  as  the  night. 

They  at  last  reached  the  top  of  a steep  street 
leading  to  Montmartre,  and  after  going  a few 
paces  down  a cross  street,  the  young  girl 
stopped,  saying: 

“It  is  here!” 

Mornas  mechanically  raised  his  eyes  to  the 
board  on  the  corner  bearing  the  name  of  the 
street.  It  was  Rue  Audran. 

A mere  lane,  opening  from  Rue  Abbesses 
and  lined  on  both  sides  with  common  looking 
houses,  the  homes  of  poor  laborers  and  small 
tradespeople. 

At  the  door  of  one  of  the  low  houses  the 
girl  stopped  and  extended  her  hand  to  Jean. 


HYPNOTISM. 


16 


“ Once  more,  accept  my  heartfelt  thanks,” 
she  said,  eainestly. 

The  light  from  a gas-lamp  fell  upon  her 
face  as  she  stood  there,  betraying  a faint  color- 
ing on  the  cheeks  which  had  been  so  pale  a few 
minutes  before. 

“ I shall  probably  never  see  you  again. 
Mademoiselle,”  he  said,  “ but  I am  very  happy 
to  have  been — ” 

“And  why  should  you  not  see  me?”  she 
interrupted.  “Mamma  will  certainly  desire  to 
know  you.” 

“ Your  mother,  ” he  murmured.  “ I do  not 
even  know  her  name.” 

“ Madame  Lorin.  ” 

“ And  you,  Mademoiselle,  you?  ” 

“I!”  she  exclaimed  with  a merry  little 
laugh,  “I  am  called  the  same  as  she.” 

“I  know  that,”  said  Jean,  hesitatingly — “ But  i 
— your  own  name — ” 

“ Oh!  I bear  a name  that  I do  hot  like  very 
much,”  she  replied,  after  a moment  of  hesita- 
tion, “ I am  called  Lucie,” 


16 


HYPNOTISM. 


“ It  is  a very  pretty  name!  ” he  murmured. 

“ Do  you  think  so? — I don’t — Good  night!  ” 

She  had  rung  the  door-bell,  and  the  little 
door  had  opened  on  the  dark  corridor  within. 

Jean  Mornas  saw  Lucie  disappear  and  the 
door  close  behind  her,  but  he  lingered  there  for 
a moment  longer,  gazing  pensively  at  the  house, 
then  casting  a last  glance  at  the  little  street, 
the  existence  of  which  he  had  ignored  until 
that  night,  he  went  back  toward  the  city  and 
entered  his  own  abode — on  the  other  side  of 
Paris — Avondering  to  himself  at  the  strange 
place  in  which  belief  had  taken  refuge,  and 
still  haunted  by  the  recollection  of  the  pretty 
blonde  head  of  the  young  girl,  who  had  seemed 
so  exquisite  as  she  bent  over  to  examine  the 
broken  bracelet  by  the  light  of  the  flickering 
gas-jet. 

Once  in  his  own  apartment,  however,  he  at- 
tempted to  scoff  at  the  emotion  he  had  experi- 
enced while  in  the  company  of  this  child,  who 
had  so  gratefully  and  confidingly  allowed  him  to 
©ricort  her  through  the  streets  to  her  own  door; 


HYPNOTISM. 


17 


and  it  was  with  a rjcornf  al  laugh  that  he  recalled 
and  repeated  her  words  aloud  in  his  bare, 
cheerless  room: 

“ ‘The  charm  given  me  by  my  mother! — My 
first  communion  medal!’  Can  it  be  possible 
there  are  still  fossils  of  that  kind  on  Parisian 
soil?  But  no,  indeed!  Madamoiselle  Lucie 
merely  played  the  virtuous  maiden  for  effect! 
— You  are  far  too  simple,  my  poor  Jean;  you, 
who  boasted  of  believing  in  nothing — Perhaps 
she  may  be  no  better,  in  spite  of  the  little 
medal  and  her  virgin  airs,  than  the  two  foot- 
pads who  attacked  her.  And  yet! — ” 

He  fell  asleep  still  thinking  of  that  confid- 
ing, trustful  smile  on  Lucie  Lorin’s  lips,  and 
of  the  sweet  face  with  its  frame  of  golden  hair. 


18 


HYPNOTISM. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

“ To  what — yes,  to  what  will  this  love-mak- 
ing lead  me?”  thought  Jean  Mornas  a few 
days  later,  after  basking  in  Lucie’s  smile  once 
more.  To  some  piece  of  folly  or  absurd- 
ity!-” 

How  often  he  had  sworn  never  to  be  guilty 
of  anything  bordering  on  the  absurd — and  as 
to  follies,  his  ambition  would  surely  preserve 
him  from  them.  For  Jean  Mornas  was  ambi- 
tious; ambitious  of  fortune,  of  a life  of  ease 
and  happiness,  of  everything  which  promised 
to  satisfy  his  appetite  for  the  great  feast  of 
modern  life. 

Of  robust  health,  with  fiery  blood  and  omniv- 
orous appetite,  he  boldly  faced  the  problem 
of  life,  with  the  audacity  of  a conqueror  and 
tlje  violence  of  an  insurgent. 

‘ I was  born  in  the  midst  of  the  orange 


HYPNOTISM. 


19 


groves  at  Nice,”  lie  was  wont  to  say,  with  a 
sort  of  wild  gaiety  and  bravado,  “ and  I shall 
die  at  the  mouth  of  a cannon  or  on  the  ram- 
parts of  a barricade.  Sunlight  and  flowers  at 
the  beginning,  powder  and  mire  at  the  end — 
such  is  the  story  of  my  life — I know  it  before- 
hand ! ” 

This  serio-tragic  declaration  was  invariably 
delivered  in  the  deepest  andmost  majestic  tone 
at  his  command,  in  the  crowded  cafes  of  the 
left  bank,  at  all  student  gatherings,  and,  in 
fact,  wherever  and  whenever  the  occasion  pre- 
sented itself.  Having  attracted  the  general  at- 
tention of  the  assemblage  by  this  startling  pro- 
phetic assertion,  Jean  Mornas  would  then  cast 
his  dark  sparkling  eyes  about  him,  twist  the 
point  of  his  black  beard,  and  watch  the  effect 
produced  on  his  hearers.  Then,  shrugging 
his  shoulders  and  raising  his  head,  he  would 
fix  his  gaze  on  the  horizon,  as  if  ho  saw  his 
future  there  before  him,  and  add,  impressively: 
“Yes,  I shall  perish  thus.  Unless — unless  I 
make  a fortune  and  go  out  quietly  on  a bed  of 
feathers — like  a duck!  ” 


20 


HYPNOTISM. 


The  Latin  Quarter  was  used  to  these  out- 
bursts; he  always  spoke  so  loudly,  making  his 
metallic  voice  resound  with  the  sonorousness 
of  a clarion.  Even  in  the  discussion  of  the 
trivial  subjects  or  in  conversation  v/ith  his  fel- 
low students  he  affected  the  tone  of  a popular 
haranguer.  During  one  entire  evening  he 
had  been  known  to  maintain  to  his  companions 
in  a low  resort  that  the  old  code  of  morals  was 
a decayed  dowager,  virtue  a duenna,  and  that 
a man  who  would  not  kill  the  mandarin  in  this 
life  was  an  imbecile. 

Yes,  the  mandarin,  you  have  all  heard  of 
him,  the  famous  ideal  mandarin  of  whom  so 
much  has  been  said  without  anyone  knowing 
very  clearly  who  invented  him.  The  man- 
darin, who,  though  in  China,  can  be  killed  by 
a mere  wish,  even  from  this  distance! — kill 
the  mandarin!  Yes,  that  was  it.  He  who 
would  hesitate  to  twist  this  Chinaman’s  neck- 
must  be  not  only  simple,  but  beastly  stupid  as 
well  to  have  any  scruples  about  the  matter. 
Ah!  the  mandarin!  It  was  not  a question  of 


HYPNOTISM. 


21 


knowiug  whether  this  mandarin  might  be 
killed,  it  was  simply  a question  of  meeting 
him,  that  was  all ! Ah ! to  meet  this  infernal 
mandarin  face  to  face — that  was  the  difficulty, 
the  great  problem!  “As  for  immolating 
him,”  and  Mornas  would  laugh  scornfully,  “if 
we  were  certain  there  were  no  judges  in  Berlin, 
in  Paris,  nor  in  Pekin,  one  would  be  a pure 
idiot  to  hesitate!  I shall  kill  the  mandarin 
whenever  you  wish!”  he  would  conclude,  in  his 
bombastic  manner.  “Simply  give  me  the 
number  of  the  street  on  which  he  resides — In 
the  flowery  kingdom,  overthere — or  even  nearer 
at  hand!”  And  Jean  Mornas’ jeering  laugh 
rang  through  the  room  with  these  sinister 
declarations.  “ So  the  rumbling  of  the  thun- 
der ever  follows  the  lightning,”  he  would  say 
to  anyone  who  commented  on  the  peculiar 
ring  of  his  sarcastic  chuckle. 

The  mannerisms  with  wdiich  Jean  declaimed 
upon  this  burning  subject  had  earned  him  the 
nickname  of  “ The  Mandarin  ” amongst  his 
auditors,  who  amused  themselves  watching  him 


22 


HYPNOTISM. 


light  his  fireworks,”  as  they  called  his  vehe- 
ment outbursts.  ‘‘  Have  you  seen  the  Manda- 
rin ? Will  the  Mandarin  be  here  this  evening  ?” 
were  questions  frequently  heard  in  the  Quarter, 
wdiere,  without  having  produced  either  a book 
or  a poem,  nothing,  in  fact,  bat  wild  speeches, 
Jean  Mornas,  the  Morn  as  of  the  orange  groves 
of  Nice  and  the  barricades  of  Paris,  passed  for 
a sort  of  celebrity  and  inhaled  to  satiety  the  in- 
vigorating perfume  of  the  nosegay  of  glory. 

Glory,  indeed?  He  stoutly  maintained  his 
utter  scorn  for  it!  Besides,  they  would  loan 
nothing  on  it  at  the  pawnshop! 

He  was  a man  of  the  period  who  believed  in 
success  only,  v.  ho  denied  the  existence  of  the 
ideal  and  considered  as  dupes  all  those  who,  in 
the  pursuit  of  chimeras,  upheld  the  supremacy 
of  those  antique  virtues  of  the  vulgar  herd: 
patience,  simplicity  and  honesty. 

Since  he  had  left  his  southern  home  to  come 
to  Paris  in  search  of  fortune,  ho  had  moved 
heaven  and  earth;  he  Avould  have  wallowed  in 
the  mire,  and  swept  the  pavements,  as  he  ex- 


HYPNOTISM. 


23 


pressed  it,  to  attain  tlie  position  he  desired 
At  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  with  poT^rerful 
talents,  we  might  be  led  to  believe  he  craved  for 
glory.  But,  once  more  we  repeat  it,  Mornas 
knew  too  well  its  value  to  waste  his  time  and 
energy  in  trying  to  attain  it.  He  had  met 
illustrious  men  on  the  streets,  whom  the  cross^ 
ing  sweepers  pushed  aside  and  vehicles  be- 
spattered with  mud  in  passing;  he  had  followed 
the  funeral  cortege  of  a celebrated  artist,  and 
ironically  contemplated  the  green  cloak  of 
Member-of-the-Institute  lying  upon  the  pall 
like  a cast-off  garment,  while  the  sparkling 
decorations  made  a heartrending  contrast  with 
the  vulgar  cloth.  Fame  had  no  value,  and  to 
leave  a name  after  him  did  not  suflEice  Mornas. 
He  wanted  to  enjoy  life  while  it  lasted,  and  he 
-would  have  given  all  the  dreams  of  fame  and 
love,  all  the  romances  and  hopes  of  his  early 
youth,  for  the  riches  he  did  not  possess  and 
which  he  envied. 

He  was  a physician;  he  had  passed  in  suc- 
cession through  all  the  grades  of  the  career — ex- 


24 


HYPNOTISM. 


terne,  interne,  and  won  liis  grade  of  army  sur- 
geon. He  had  thrown  himself  boldly  into  the 
mel6e  with  the  thousands  and  thousands  of 
others — surgeons  without  practice,  professors 
awaiting  public  positions  who  throng  Paris, 
their  heads  crammed  with  learning,  their  hearts 
SAvelled  with  hopes,  and  their  stomachs  empty. 
There  were  too  many  physicians  in  the  great 
city.  They  could  be  counted  by  thousands. 
All  the  avenues  were  encumbered.  Every- 
where was  an  overplus  of  learning.  Fashion’s 
votaries,  whose  influence  is  more  powerful  than 
authority,  when  ailing  went  for  treatment  en- 
tirely to  the  few;  and  the  human  tide  rushed  on 
to  the  celebrities,  leaving  the  beginners  on  the 
pavement  like  wrecks  on  a sandy  beach.  Mor- 
nas  experienced  revolts  of  the  flesh  and  cruel 
stings  to  his  self-love.  In  his  irritating  pov- 
erty, he  asked  himself  whether  he  should  bury 
his  chimeras  in  some  hole  in  his  native  prov- 
ince, as  in  a forgotten  grave,  or  if  he  should 
boldly  put  his  shoulder  against  the  door  of 
success  in  Paris  and  force  it  open  by  dint  of 


HYPNOTISM. 


25 


energy.  But  the  shoulder  wearied  at  last,  and 
still  the  door  remained  firm  and  unmoved.  He 
lived  on  chance  work,  on  patients  picked  up 
here  and  there,  on  the  ills  of  poor  devils,  on  the 
agonies  of  wretches ; then,  by  degrees,  he  became 
disgusted  with  this  work  without  honor,  with 
those  attics  reeking  with  the  odors  of  squalid 
misery  and  wretchedness,  with  the  greasy  stair- 
ways, ascended  and  descended  without  profit. 
His  heart  being  elevated  neither  by  the  love  of 
his  art  nor  pity  for  the  sufferings  of  mankind, 
he  went  to  his  unremunerative  labors  with 
ever  increasing  disgust  and  weariness,  and 
continued  to  live  on  in  his  aimless  way,  with 
neither  faith  nor  passion  to  stimulate  him. 

“Bah!”  he  exclaimed  in  his  careless  way, 
“ what  is  the  use  of  spending  one’s  life  in  this 
continual  waiting  ? If  there  was  only  an 
opportunity  for  profit  or  notoriety — an  epi- 
demic, a war,  a catastrophe  of  some  kind. 
Then  would  come  my  chance!  In  one  day  I 
might  become  known  and  celebrated.  In  a 
year  I might  be  rich!  I would  risk  my 


26 


HYPNOTISM. 


skill,  it  is  true,  but  if  I won  I would  fill  it  at 
least ; while  these  empty  days  and  long  nights 
spent  in  endless  waiting  drive  me  to  distrac- 
tion. And  yet,  it  is  said  the  world  is  for 
them  who  have  patience!  Nonsense,  it  is 
rather  for  them  who  force  it  to  listen  to  their 
ambitions.” 

He  no  longer  used  the  title  of  doctor,  and 
merely  assumed  it,  now  and  then,  as  a retired 
soldier  might  assume  the  worn-out  military 
coat  from  which  the  stripes  and  buttons  have 
been  cut. 

At  the  time  of  his  meeting  with  Lucie,  he 
occupied  a modest  room  in  the  Rue  Racine, 
and  spent  his  days  wandering  through  the 
streets  in  search  of  what  he  termed  ^moccasion. 
If  he  succeeded — it  mattered  little  to  him  at 
what — he  would  secure  the  happiness  of  the 
honest  couple  who  had  slaved  so  hard  on  the 
little  farm  in  the  vicinity  of  Nice  to  educate 
him,  and  whose  proudest  boast  was  that  their 
boy  was  a Parisian  doctor.  These  humble  peo- 
ple’s ambition  for  their  child  had  soared  to 


HYPNOTISM. 


27 


another  sphere  of  action,  beyond  the  narrow, 
monotonous  world  in  which  they  had  always 
vegetated,  contented  with  their  lot  and  with- 
out ambition  for  themselves,  but  with  hearts 
filled  with  hopes  for  their  only  son.  A 
laureate  of  the  Lyceum!  And  so  eloquent — 
eloquent  enough  to  be  a lawyer,  a deputy,  a 
minister,  anything,  in  fact! 

Yes;  and  Mornas  was  well  aware  of  it. 
Eloquent  with  that  fierce  eloquence  which,  in 
public  reunions,  not  only  made  the  window- 
panes  rattle,  but  aroused  fierce  passions  and 
created  doubts  in  consciences.  A newspaper 
published  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine  had 
thus  described  him:  “A  voice  of  brass  in  a 
body  of  iron.  Vigorous  muscles  in  the  serv- 
ice of  a formidable  will-power.”  The  flame 
of  youth  burnt  in  his  eyes;  but  the  heart  was 
empty  and  already  weary  of  struggling,  and 
even  his  audacity  was  paralyzed  by  a sort  of 
disgust  of  everything  and  a fierce  hatred  for 
the  mediocrity  to  which  he  saw  himself 
doomed.  Poor  and  the  son  of  poor  people,  he 


28 


HYPNOTISM. 


feared  but  one  disease,  one  leprosy — wretched- 
ness! 

‘‘  What  a pity  we  cannot  sell  our  souls  to  the 
devil,  as  in  the  old  days!  ” he  sometimes  mut- 
tered with  his  low  grating  laugh.  ‘‘  That 
would  make  an  opening,  and  besides — ” and 
he  laughed  louder  still — it  would  be  all 
profit,  for  the  devil  would  be  badly  taken  in 
in  the  bargain.” 

Thus  in  this  noisy  world,  where  intellectual 
activity  exasperated  him,  Jean  earned  a scanty 
livelihood,  as  best  he  could,  by  compiling  notes 
from  history  and  collecting  information  from 
libraries  for  a rich  old  miser,  who  was  prepar- 
ing a work  on  the  origin  of  medicine,  and  thus 
purchased  his  fame  cheaply,  and  by  giving 
lessons  to  insolent  children  who  confounded 
professors  with  servants  in  their  scorn  for  good 
breeding.  A physician  without  patients,  a 
heart  without  faith,  a brain  without  an  ideal,  a 
writer  without  a name  and  a lover  without 
love,  Jean  Mornas  dragged  his  pride  and  his 
repressed  appetites  through  Paris,  bitterly 
cursing  his  destiny  as  he  went. 


HYPNOTISM. 


29 


He  was  often  seized  by  a mad  desire  to 
desert  his  cold,  cheerless  room,  the  dingy  pas- 
sages, through  the  thin  partitions  of  which 
came  the  sounds  of  childish  laughter  and  the 
songs  of  women,  and  go  in  search  of  nights 
devoid  of  nightmares  and  days  free  from  strug- 
gle. He  longed  to  return  to  that  little  garden 
where  his  mother  sat  spinning  under  the  shade 
of  the  immense  fig-tree  and  his  father  read 
the  newspaper  aloud. 

What!  return  to  his  native  place  like  a de- 
feated soldier,  go  and  bury  himself  in  a provin- 
cial hole  and  treat  the  simple  ailments  of  the 
peasants  like  an  apothecary!  To  leave  Paris, 
this  ocean,  for  a pool!  Jean  Mornas  struggled 
against  these  moments  of  weakness ; and  rais- 
ing his  head  proudly,  he  would  gaze  at  his 
reflection  in  the  mirror  for  a few  moments, 
then  exclaim  proudly: 

“No,  indeed!  I was  not  born  to  live  amongst 
such  people — I need  Paris,  and  I shall  have 
it!  After  all,  what  am  I Vvmnting?  The  occa- 
sion only.  Every  man  has  his  day.” 


30 


HYPNOTISM. 


And  he  would  add  with  a bitter  laugh: 

“His  day — and  his  mandarin! 

But  he  lowered  his  voice  whenever  he  said 
this,  as  if  he  feared  to  be  overheard.  Then, 
lau^hin^  at  his  fear,  he  would  conclude: 

“ How  stupid  I am!  If  he  is  in  China,  he 
cannot  hear  me!  ” 


HYPNOTISM. 


31 


CHAPTEE  III. 

Jean  Mornas’  meeting  with  Lucie  was  now 
another  motive  or  tie  that  prevented  his  return 
to  the  suburbs  of  Nice.  For  even  had  he  final- 
ly concluded  to  spend  his  life  vegetating  in  the 
province,  the  thought  of  the  young  girl  w^ould 
have  sufficed  to  retain  him  in  Paris.  He  had 
frequently  visited  the  Eue  Audran,  drawn  at 
first  by  curiosity  and  later  by  mere  force  of 
habit,  and  though  he  had  never  “offered 
sacrifice  to  sentiment,”  as  he  expressed  it,  with 
his  usual  irony,  he  now  gradually  felt  a strange 
violent  fascination  for  this  young  girl  who, 
on  her  part,  loved  him  madly,  and  experi- 
enced a profound  admiration  for  this  man  who 
was  so  much  her  superior. 

Yes,  it  was  curiosity  alone  that  had  at 
first  attracted  Jean,  or,  perhaps,  it  was  that 
instinctive  need  of  romance,  always  found  in  a 


32 


HYPNOTISM. 


man  of  twenty-eight,  even  in  one  of  a strong 
mind,”  such  as  Mornas  pretended  to  be.  And 
Jean  gradually  became  a regular  visitor  at  the 
little  house  whither  he  had  escorted  the  young 
girl  on  the  night  of  their  first  meeting;  where 
he  had  repeatedly  seen  her  and  had  been  pre- 
sented to  her  mother,  a good  honest  woman 
who  had  been  so  happy  to  thank  the  one  Lucie 
had  spoken  so  much  of,  calling  him : 

“My  poor  child’s  protector!” 

‘ ‘ Protector ! — ” protested  Morn  as.  “I 

happened  there  by  chance.” 

“By  chance,  indeed!  by  chance!  There  is 
no  such  thing  as  chance.  Monsieur.  And — you 
may  laugh  at  me  if  you  wish — I have  placed 
a lighted  candle  before  the  statue  of  Saint- 
Pierre  de  Montmartre,  in  honor  of  the  event,” 
she  retorted. 

Laugh  at  her!  No;  this  skeptic  did  not 
laugh  at  her  simple  piety!  He  found  a strange 
charm  in  such  simplicity.  Moreover,  to  him 
faith  or  superstitions,  of  whatever  kind,  were 
merely  cerebral  manifestations,  and  he  ac- 


HYPNOTISM. 


33 


cepted  them  as  facts.  And  then  his  vanity 
was  flattered  by  that  gratitude  which,  with  the 
mother  as  with  the  daughter,  reverted  quite 
naturally  into  a form  of  admiration . Little 
by  little,  he  had  thus  acquired  a habit  of  going 
to  Mme.  Lorin’s  home. 

It  was  a sort  of  recreation  to  him.  He  experi- 
enced an  expression  of  freshness  and  comfort 
in  this  rude  Parisian  domicile,  Avhile  Mme. 
Lorin,  without  however  daring  to  say  so  aloud, 
began  to  And  the  young  man’s  visits  very  fre- 
quent; but  Lucie  seemed  so  happy  when  Jean 
appeared  in  the  little  house  of  the  Rue  Audran 
that  she  could  not  And  it  in  her  heart  to  pro- 
test against  his  coming. 

Jean,  without  anyone  even  suspecting  the 
existence  of  this  romance — which  would  have 
appeared  incredible  to  the  ordinary  auditors  of 
the  paradoxes  of  the  Mandarin — had  thus  made 
two  parts  of  his  life ; one  all  of  show  and  poses, 
of  fatiguing  struggles,  of  anger  boldly  pro- 
claimed— that  of  the  physician  without  pa- 
tients, of  the  miner  in  search  oi  a vein ; the 
a 


3J: 


HYPNOTISM. 


other  hidden,  smiling,  consoling,  like  that  of  the 
fiance  who  adores  his  mistress  and  has  no 
other  anxiety  than  the  color  of  the  roses  he 
shall  provide  for  the  evening.  And,  according 
to  the  character  in  which  he  appeared,  he  was 
no  longer  the  same  man.  “ There  is  now,”  he 
said  to  himself,  “a  Mornas  of  the  right  bank 
and  a Mornas  of  the  left  bank.”  And,  what 
also  puzzled  him,  was  that  the  former,  who 
was  as  practical  as  a Yankee,  did  not  look  upon 
the  latter  as  a perfect  imbecile. 

Mornas,  the  lover  was,  indeed,  the  direct 
opposite  of  Mornas  the  ambitious  man.  Nature 
frequently  presents  such  contrasts.  The  man 
who,  if  the  occasion  had  presented  itself,  would 
have  driven  thousands  of  people  to  revolt,  be- 
came gentle  and  almost  timid  before  the  child- 
ish smile  of  this  young  girl.  He  now  knew 
Mme.  Lorin’s  existence;  and  that  simple  story, 
commonplace  as  the  lives  of  all  humble  people, 
which  he  would  have  declared  insignificant  and 
wearisome  if  it  had  been  related  to  him  to 
awaken  his  sympathies,  had  more  than  once 


HYPNOTISM. 


35 


brought  a tear  to  his  eyes  while  Lucie  spoke  of 
it. 

“A  foolish  tear!  ” he  would  mutter  to  him- 
self, impatiently. 

Lucie’s  entire  past  was  dark,  cold  and  pain- 
ful ; but  further  than  a vivid  recollection  of  the 
sorrows  of  her  childhood  she  retained  nothing 
but  a gentle  resignation ; Mme.  Lorin  had  taught 
her  to  bear  all  trials  with  meekness.  She  also 
had  herself  suffered  cruelly.  When  a poor 
working  girl,  she  had  married  Lucie’s  father,  a 
handsome  young  fellow  and  the  only  man  she 
had  ever  loved,  and  for  several  years  they  had 
lived  in  comparative  happiness.  Then  the 
husband — a machinist — who  was  a fluent 
talker,  began  to  neglect  the  workshop  for  those 
noisy  ^meetings  where  he  delivered  speeches 
which  electrifled  his  comrades,  gradually  de- 
serting the  little  home  circle  and  leaving  his 
wife  to  what  he  termed  her  bigotries ; and  when 
he  did  chance  to  spend  a few  hours  at  her  side 
he  spoke  of  nothing  but  the  g^’eat  projects  he 
had  formed  to  deliver  tiie  people  and  emancipate 


36 


HYPNOTISM. 


women  from  the  load  of  wretchedness  under 
which  they  suffered. 

‘‘But  I assure  you,  I do  not  suffer,  my  dear 
Vincent!”  she  protested. 

“ Don’t  tell  me  you  do  not  suffer,”  he  re- 
torted, emphatically.  “ When  we  meekly  re- 
sign ourselves  to  the  yoke,  we  are  deserving  of 
our  chains! ” 

These  fiery  outbursts  terrified  the  poor 
woman,  who  was  naturally  of  a gentle,  timid 
and  profoundly  pious  character.  But  the  fever- 
ish agitations  of  the  period  soon  carried  away 
Vincent  Lorin,  who  was  as  bold  and  enthusiastic 
as  his  wife  was  retiring  and  timid. 

One  morning,  in  May,  1871,  fourteen  years 
before  our  story  opens,  he  had  gone  out  never 
to  return.  Though  his  fate  had  ever  remained 
enshrouded  in  mystery,  he  was  believed  to  have 
been  shot  down  by  the  troops  and  buried  in  a 
trench  with  a number  of  his  revolutionary  com- 
panions. Mme.  Lorin  had  had  masses  said  for 
the  repose  of  his  soul  at  the  Montmartre  church, 
where  they  had  been  united ; then  she  had  sor- 


HYPNOTISM. 


37 


rowfully  taken  up  her  burden  and  labored  for 
herself  and  her  child.  And  now  that  the  hour 
had  come  when  her  daughter  required  her 
love  and  protection  more  than  ever,  the  poor 
woman  realized  that  her  days  were  numbered, 
that  she  was  slowly  and  surely  dying,  as  kind 
old  Doctor  Pomeroy  expressed  it. 

Doctor  Pomeroy  was  an  old  physician  who 
had  resided  in  the  neighborhood  for  many 
years,  and  was  looked  upon  rather  as  a benfac- 
tor  than  a physician  by  the  poor  people  of 
Montmartre.  He  had  saved  Lucie’s  life  when 
a child  and  suffering  from  croup,  and  he  was 
now  attending  the  mother,  to  whom  he  frequent- 
ly brought  a few  bottles  of  wine  in  his  overcoat 
pocket — a way  he  had  of  settling  his  bills. 

Jean  Mornas  had  never  met  Doctor  Pomeroy 
in  Rue  Audran.  He  was  not  displeased  at 
this;  he  preferred  that  everybody,  even  the 
physician,  should  remain  in  ignorance  of  his 
visits  to  Mme.  Lorin’s  domicile.  He  knew  the 
Doctor  by  reputation,  however;  M.  Pomeroy 
was  not  a man  who  had  made  a name  through 


38 


HYPNOTISM. 


any  exceptional  ability,  but  he  was  a type  of 
simple  devotion  and  true  goodness.  He  had 
refused  the  cross  offered  him  in  acknowledg- 
ment of  his  heroic  services  during  an  epidemic, 
when  he  had  risked  his  life  for  the  benefit  of 
his  fellow  creatures,  and  the  students  still  spoke 
of  the  honest  old  man’s  reply. 

“We  do  not  decorate  people  for  having  mere- 
ly done  their  duty,”  he  had  said.  “ When  I do 
more  than  my  duty,  it  will  be  time  enough  to 
mention  rewards !” 

“ Then  give  him  a prize  for  virtue,  and 
speak  no  more  of  him!”  Mornas  would  say, 
whenever  anyone  lauded  the  Doctor  in  his 
presence. 

He  was  at  last  brought  face  to  face  with  the 
Doctor,  however — the  day  Mme.  Lorin  died. 
Death  had  at  last  claimed  the  poor  woman ; and 
one  morning  Lucie  found  herself  alone.  The 
little  apartment  of  Hue  Audran  seemed  im- 
mense to  her,  in  the  terrible  void  her  mother 
had  left  behind  her. 

The  nervous  disease,  from  which  the  young 


HYPNOTISM. 


39 


girl  had  suffered  from  childhood,  was  now 
greatly  aggravated  by  the  grief  of  this  mis- 
fortune. Jean  was  at  first  somewhat  alarmed; 
then  time  numbed  the  pain  as  fatigue  weighs 
down  an  eyelid;  and,  little  by  little,  that  sort 
of  slumber  of  our  sufferings  succeeded  Lucie’s 
mad  despair ; but  Mornas’  consolations,  his  ten- 
derness and  his  love,  had  much  to  do  with 
bringing  about  the  relative  calmness  into 
which  she  was  slowly  gliding. 

Jean  did  not  reflect;  he  did  not  want  to  reflect 
on  the  position  in  which  he  had  placed  him- 
self. Infatuated  by  the  timid  charm,  by  the 
very  weakness  of  this  child,  he  sought  her 
almost  every  day  and  allowed  himself  to  be  car- 
ried along  by  this  affection,  as  if  by  a new 
paradox,  by  a paradox  in  action. 

Having  no  other  friend,  Lucie  now  confided 
everything  to  him:  her  sorrows  and  humble 
aspirations,  as  well  as  the  dreams  she  had 
cherished  of  securing  a life  of  ease  and  comfort 
for  her  beloved  mother  in  her  old  age.  Her 
plans  were  simple  enough.  She  would  have 


40 


HYPNOTISM. 


gone  into  business  some  day,  and  would  have 
worked  incessantly  for  the  loved  one  who  was 
no  more;  for  did  not  children  owe  this  to  those 
who  had  toiled  continually  for  them?  There 
existed  in  Lucie’s  gentle  soul  and  humble 
spirit,  simple  impulses  as  refreshing  as  a clear 
bubbling  spring.  To  please  her,  Mornas 
showed  himself  good,  devoted  and  attentive. 
And  though  he  concealed  the  flowers  in  his 
pocket  that  his  companions  might  not  laugh  at 
his  folly  and  weakness,  he  brought  her  violets, 
which  she  kept  sacredly  long  after  they  had 
withered. 

This  halt  in  his  life  could  not  be  of  long 
duration  with  the  ambitious  man,  however. 
Where  would  this  love  lead  him?  He  had 
long  faced  this  dilemma  of  stupidity,  or  folly, 
without  coming  to  any  decision.  Folly  con- 
sisted in  associating  Lucie  with  his  life,  in 
dragging  her  with  him  into  the  struggle,  in 
uniting  her  to  his  wretchedness — or  perhaps — 
in  giving  her  his  name.  Stupidity  consisted 
in  throwing  himself  headlong  into  the  future 


HYPNOTISM. 


41 


with  her,  or  rather  in  throwing  her  into  ILat 
vulgar,  sinister  existence  the  end  of  which  is — 
like  the  end  of  all  faithless  loves — when  not  the 
altar,  the  hospital ! 

She  loved  him  enough,  poor  girl,  to  abandon 
herself  to  his  will.  With  him,  she  would  have 
lived  in  a sort  of  delicious  torpor  which  would 
have  seemed  a happy  dream  after  the  sorrows 
of  her  childhood.  She  would  not  have  re- 
flected; she  would  not  have  suspected  that 
when  Mornas’  caprice  had  passed  away  she 
might  And  herself  face  to  face  with  the  hor- 
rors of  a downfall,  having  no  other  refuge  than 
the  pavement  of  the  streets.  As  she  adored 
Jean,  it  could  scarcely  occur  to  her  that  to  be 
adored  by  him  might  be  her  ruin.  She  would 
have  calculated  nothing,  feared  nothing,  and 
regretted  nothing. 

But  Jean  calculated  for  her. 

He  was  infatuated,  moved  to  the  depths  of 
his  nature  by  this  passion  which  astonished 
while  it  charmed  him.  When  alone  in  the 
solitude  of  his  room  in  Bue  Bacine,  he  found 


42 


HYPNOTISM. 


a delicious  pleasure  in  thinking  of  Lucie’s 
gentle  blue  eyes,  her  blonde  locks  and  the  lively 
joy  depicted  on  her  features  when  she  met  him 
at  the  door.  He  had  never  dreamed  of  such  a 
mistress;  and  his  vanity  was  flattered  by  this 
love.  But  it  was  at  this  point  that  he  summoned 
all  his  strength;  resolved  to  cut  short  this 
romance  which  would  certainly  become  an 
obstacle  if  allowed  to  last  any  longer. 

“ A man  of  intelligence  should  always  be 
upon  the  alert,  especially  at  a period  when 
any  moment  may  bring  forth  the  supreme  occa- 
sion,” he  would  say.  “Then,  what  is  the  use 
of  encumbering  one’s  life  with  a useless 
love  ? ’ 

Would  he  sacrifice  Lucie  to  the  satisfaction 
of  an  appetite  that  would  be  satiated  by  the 
most  degraded  of  women?  Or  would  he  allow 
himself  to  be  pierced  more  deeply  by  a love 
that  was  already  too  dangerous ? No!  a thou- 
sand times,  no! — It  were  best  to  break  off  at 
once.  Yes;  break  the  chain  before  it  had  be- 
come riveted.  Break  it  while  he  was  still  only 


HYPNOTISM. 


43 


am  using  himself  with  her;  fly  before  he  had 
fallen  to  the  level  of  a vulgar  stupidity,  or  to 
the  madness  produced  by  passion! 

‘‘It  must  be!”  he  would  exclaim.  “Lucie 
shall  be  a past  vision,  an  apparition  in  my  life! 
I have  no  time  to  squander  on  phantoms!  I 
must  sever  the  chain  that  binds  me  to  her  with- 
out delay!” 

And  as  he  walked  on  toward  the  Rue  Au- 
dran,  whither  he  had  gone  so  often  since  his 
first  meeting  with  Lucie,  he  would  add: 

“She  will  curse  me,  find  me  wicked  and  heart- 
less— and  she  may,  nevertheless,  like  Mine. 
Lorin,  place  a lighted  candle  in  front  of  the 
statue  of  Saint  Pierre  de  Montmartre — I love 
her  and  she  loves  me — and  I have  respected 
her,  which  is  more  than  many  an  honest  man 
would  have  done  in  my  place!” 


44 


HYPNOTISM. 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

For  more  than  an  hour  they  had  sat  silently 
together  in  the  dreary  little  room  on  the  fifth 
fioor  of  the  house  at  Montmartre.  As  she 
bent  over  her  work,  Lucie  raised  her  head  from 
time  to  time  to  gaze  timidly,  yet  admiringly  at 
her  companion;  while  Jean,  with  his  eyes 
turned  toward  the  narrow  window,  contem- 
plated the  gloomy  spectacle  of  the  neighboring 
houses  with  their  blackened  roofs  and  gray 
walls,  and  further  off,  the  immense  strand, 
Paris  with  its  houses  pressed  together  like 
grains  of  sand  and  its  churches  and  domes  en- 
veloped in  its  own  dense  fog  of  smoke  and 
bustle. 

From  below,  from  the  depths  of  the  streets 
hemmed  in  between  the  walks  of  the  houses 
and  stretching  away  like  the  narrow  galleries 
of  a mine,  came  the  rumbling  of  carriages,  the 


HYPNOTISM. 


45 


murmur  of  the  Lurrying  throng  and  the  dis- 
tant sounds  of  the  great  city.  And  yet,  as  he 
gazed  listlessly  at  this  active  human  beehive, 
tete-a-tete  with  this  gentle  girl  working  as  si- 
lently as  a convict  in  her  cell  and  whose  sensitive 
heart  he  was  about  to  wound  so  cruelly,  Jean 
felt  more  bitterly  sad  and  alone  than  he  had 
ever  felt  in  his  life.  He  noAv  realized  that  he 
truly  loved  her,  with  a violence  and  passion  he 
had  never  believed  possible.  Notwithstanding 
her  twenty  years,  she  possessed  a childish 
candor  which  calmed  and  soothed  his  impetu- 
ous spirit.  Then,  her  adoration  of  him  was  so 
eloquent,  so  touching,  so  infatuating,  that  it 
disarmed  him.  It  was  not  displeasing  to  this 
popular  orator,  this  tap-room  brawler,  this 
politician  of  to-morrow,  who  craved  for  a life 
of  ease  and  gloried  in  the  bravos  of  the 
drunken  mob,  to  have  for  a confidante  and  ad- 
mirer this  little  orphan  who  saw  and  loved  no 
one  in  the  whole  world  but  him. 

At  the  moment  oO  breaking  off,  ho  experi- 
enced the  agony  of  the  wound  he  was  about 


HYPNOTISM, 


to  inflict  and — ever-present  sentiment — the 
egotistical  anxiety  at  the  sufferings  he  also 
would  feel.  And  yet,  it  must  be  done;  lie 
must  strike  tlie  blow,  say  farewell,  and  disap- 
pear. He  might  have  ceased  to  come,  he 
might  have  written,  or  even  have  left  her  with- 
out a word  of  explanation ; but  the  heartrending 
spectacle  of  the  scene  he  was  about  to  precipi- 
tate possessed  a strange  fascination  for  him. 
The  bitterness  of  the  tears  we  cause  to  flow 
has  in  itself  a sort  of  intoxication.  Since  he 
must  suffer,  Jean  wanted,  at  least,  to  see  how 
she  also  suffered.  It  was  like  imposing  pay- 
ment on  the  poor  girl  for  the  respect  he  had 
shown  to  her.  Lucie’s  tears  would  repay  the 
blunder  of  his  platonicism.  And  while  he  con- 
templated the  young  girl  as  she  sat  opposite 
him,  the  sunlight  caressing  the  bowed  head 
on  which  the  blonde  hair  seemed  like  fine 
threads  of  gold,  he  repeated  to  himself  the 
question  he  had  so  often  pondered  upon  in  the 
solitude  of  his  room: 

‘‘To  what  will  this  liaison  lead  you?  To 
what?” 


HYPNOTISM. 


47 


Then  he  added:  “ To  a man  such  as  you,  the 
only  affiliation  possible  is  a union  that  will 
elevate  you  in  your  own  eyes  and  in  the  eyes 
of  the  world.  A Jean  Mornas  should  not  be 
influenced  by  the  love  of  a working  girl!” 

Yes;  but  this  working  girl  had  a firmer 
hold  upon  his  heart  than  he  imagined.  And 
at  the  moment  of  destroying  this  little  romance, 
so  chaste  and  sweet,  which  was  destined  to 
have  no  ending,  Mornas  experienced  an  unex- 
pected sense  of  loss;  as  if  this  part  of  his  life, 
the  concealed  and  consoling  part,  had  been 
dearer  to  him  than  the  other,  the  life  of  parade 
and  bombastic  utterances. 

Nevertheless,  like  a man  who  after  examin- 
ing the  dagger  hastily  buries  it  in  his  body, 
he  suddenly  resolved  to  speak. 

He  told  Lucie  that  for  the  future — yes, 
from  that  very  day — she  should  not  expect' 
him.  He  had  reflected.  His  frequent  visits, 
which  had  becomei  a cherished  habit  with  him, 
were  no  longer  possible.  A necessity  of  fort- 
une, of  honesty,  obliged  him  to  avoid  her 


48 


HYPNOTISM. 


for  the  future  and  leave  her  mistress  of  her 
own  life. 

He  spoke  rapidly,  with  a sort  of  angry 
abruptness,  as  if  he  wished  to  dizzy  himself. 

A cry  from  Lucie  stopped  him. 

“ Never  come  back? — Never  see  me  again? 
And  why?” 

“ Ah  ! why  indeed?” 

She  had  allowed  her  work  to  slip  from  her 
fingers  and  fall  to  .her  feet;  and  with  her  arms 
hanging  at  her  sides,  she  raised  her  poor, 
frightened  eyes  to  his. 

Then  he  tried  to  give,  or  to  find  valid  reasons 
for  his  departure.  He  was  not  rich,  and  he 
could  not  entertain  the  idea  of  associating  with 
his  existence  a woman  as  poor  as  himself. 
While  courageous  enough  to  bear  the  weight 
of  the  struggle,  or,  if  need  be,  the  yoke  of 
wretchedness,  alone,  he  would  suffer  too  much 
at  sight  of  the  sufferings  of  a beloved  being. 
How  did  he  live?  By  harassing  work,  by 
revolting  mental  labors  I An  old  scholar  of  the 
provinces,  or  rather  a learned  man  who  lacked 


HYPNOTISM. 


49 


brains,  had  for  a month  past  employed  him  at 
degrading  work.  Yes;  this  collector  of  useless 
scribblings,  who  late  in  life  had  been  fired 
with  the  ambition  of  becoming  a writer,  who, 
though  on  the  verge  of  the  grave,  dreamed  of 
academic  honors  and  was  incapable  of  produc- 
ing anything,  had  chosen  as  anonymous  col- 
laborator, as  literary  gilder^  this  Jean  Mornas 
who  had  been  recommended  by  one  of  his 
nephews,  a fellow  student  at  the  university. 
He  went  frequently  to  Versailles,  where  this 
old  man  lived,  and  tortured  his  brain  for  the 
benefit  of  his  miserly,  fault-finding  em- 
ployer. 

“ Such  are  my  life  and  my  resources,”  he  went 
on.  “ As  you  see,  it  is  not  very  promising! — 
I should  have  remained  at  my  profession.  But 
medicine  disgusts  me.  I do  not  believe  in  it  1 
Then,  what? — I am  a laborer  like  yourself, 
Lucie — yes,  a laborer  in  ragged  pantaloons  and 
a threadbare  coat,  who  possesses  not  even  the 
certainty  of  being  able  to  support  by  his  work 
the  one  he  shall  choose  for  his  companion! 

4 


60 


HYPNOTISM. 


This  is  what  I am!  And  when  one  has 
no  brighter  outlook  before  him,  he  has  no 
right  to  ask  the  one  he  loves  to  share  his 
wretchedness  I ” 

But  try  as  he  might  to  blacken  in  the  young 
girl’s  eyes  that  future  which  he  portrayed  so 
full  of  wretchedness  and  barren  of  comfort, 
she  still  endeavored  to  smile.  Nothing  of  all 
this  frightened  her.  She  had  slowly  accustomed 
herself  to  Jean’s  love,  and  she  had  never  tried 
to  learn  whether  he  was  rich  or  how  he  lived. 
He  appeared  in  her  little  home  as  the  only 
being  she  loved,  the  only  one  she  knew,  almost. 
She  knew  that  her  mother  had  considered  him 
good  and  worthy.  Jean,  in  company  with  a few 
neighbors,  had  followed  the  poor  woman’s  re- 
mains to  the  cemetery ; and  since  then,  it  seemed 
to  Lucie  that  he  was  one  of  her  family.  She  did 
not  ask  herself  how  she  loved  him ; she  loved  him, 
that  was  all ; and  the  idea  that  he  would  some 
day  announce,  as  he  had  done  that  day,  that  he 
would  not  come  again,  that  all  was  over,  that  he 
was  going  away,  never  to  return,  had  never 


HYPNOTISM. 


51 


come  to  her;  no  more  than  the  idea  that  he 
might  marry  her,  that  she  should  some  day 
become  his  wife. 

W.e  rarely  reflect  on  the  cause  of  our  happi- 
piness,  especially  when  our  fragile  happiness  is 
made  up  of  a consoled  misfortune.  Until  then, 
Lucie  had  merely  allowed  herself  to  live  on, 
almost  slumbering  in  this  tenderness.  And 
just  as  her  pain  had  left  the  heart,  Mornas’ 
words  abruptly  re-awakened  it.  She  had  no  very 
clear  understanding  of  what  his  words  meant; 
but  she  felt  that  everything  about  her  was 
crumbling  away  and  that  solitude  was  to  follow; 
a terrible  solitude,  without  consolation  this 
time.  Her  mother  dead,  Jean  gone,  what 
would  become  of  her?  In  her  distress  she 
clutched  at  Jean  with  the  despairing  gestures 
of  a drowning  person ; then  fell  back  into  her 
chair  motionless,  her  haggard  eyes  fixed  upon 
his  face,  unable  to  utter  a single  word  of  pro- 
test. 

A strange  trouble  had  come  upon  her,  of 
which  she  was  hardly  aware.  Had  life  died  out 


62 


HYPNOTISM. 


suddenly  for  her,  the  sensation  of  suffocation 
and  emptiness  would  have  been  the  same.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  she  had  lost  the  sense  of 
sight  and  that  her  heart  had  ceased  to  beat.  A 
heaviness,  a vague  torpor  took  possession  of 
her.  And  Jean,  wishing  to  repeat  to  her  that 
if  he  were  leaving  her  it  was  through  pure 
honesty,  because  an  existence  in  common  was 
impossible  for  them,  had  taken  her  hand  and 
was  gazing  into  her  eyes,  as  if  to  carry 
away  with  him  this  last  gentle,  sorrowful 
glance,  and  let  her  read  in  his  own  glance  the 
sincerity  of  his  love  and  his  pain. 

For  a moment  they  remained  thus,  gazing 
silently  into  each  other’s  eyes.  He  also  ex- 
perienced a choking  sensation,  as  if  the  sobs 
had  gathered  in  his  throat  and  could  go  no 
further;  then  he  was  seized  by  the  mad,  im- 
pulsive desire  to  throw  himself  at  her  feet,  to 
clasp  the  golden  head  to  his  heaving  breast, 
to  press  his  burning  lips  to  the  beautiful  sad 
eyes,  to  cry  out  in  the  esctasy  of  a kiss:  “No! 
no!  I will  not  go!  I will  remain,  I love  you! 


HYPNOTISM. 


63 


Let  us  brave  life  and  all  its  miseries  together. 
But  let  us  not  part,  Lucie!  Never! — Do  you 
understand  ? — never !’  ’ 

These  words  buzzed  in  his  ears  and  dizzied 
his  brain;  yet  he  had  the  strength  to  hold  them 
back  from  his  lips  and  crush  down  the  generous 
impulse  of  the  moment. 

To  hold  within  his  grasp  this  pure,  innocent 
girl,  who  would  have  abandoned  herself  to  his 
mercy  had  he  but  stretched  out  his  arms,  and 
yet  to  deny  himself  this  cruel  happiness,  filled 
him  with  a feeling  of  mingled  ecstasy  and  fierce 
voluptuousness ; and  his  heat  swelled  with  pride 
at  the  thought  that  he,  the  cynic  and  unbeliever, 
should  be  more  conscientous  than  his  fellow- 
men,  who  would  have  hurled  this  unprotected 
child  to  her  ruin. 

Yes,  he  would  go  away,  and  never  come 
back. 

After  gazing  thus  for  a long  time  at  the 
young  girl  with  an  involuntary  expression  of 
passion,  it  suddenly  seemed  to  him  that  he  de- 
tected a strange  fixity  in  her  eyes ; the  pupils 


64 


HYPNOTISM. 


were  singularly  dilated  between  the  widely  ex- 
panded eyelids. 

Jean  shrank  back  slightly,  but  Lucie  re- 
mained motionless  and  rigid,  hearing  nothing 
and  seemingly  petrified.  He  then  extended  his 
hand  and  touched  her,  calling  her  name : “Lucie ! 
— Lucie! — ” But  she  made  no  reply  and 
still  retained  that  frightful  immobility  and  cata- 
leptic rigidity,  reminding  him  of  those  poor  girls 
on  whom  he  had  so  often  experimented  at  the 
hospital  or  at  students’  meetings.  He  wondered 
if  this  frail,  exquisite  child  were  not  attacked 
by  the  nervous  malady  that  so  frequently  assail 
those  unfortunate  creatures.  As  he  still  pon- 
dered over  this  puzzling  problem,  this  catalep- 
tic state  seemed  to  give  place  to  a sort  of  leth- 
argy; the  pretty  golden  head  drooped  gently  on 
the  left  shoulder,  and  the  weary  eyes  closed. 
Leaning  over  her,  Jean  breathed  on  the  closed 
eyelids ; there  was  a slight,  nervous  twitching 
of  the  heavy  lids,  and  Lucie  finally  raised 
her  timid  eyes  to  him  with  an  expression  of 
tenderness  and  supplication — the  wistful  gaze 


HYPNOTISM. 


55 

of  the  lamb  conscious  of  the  fate  in  store  for 
him  at  the  butcher’s  hands. 

Jean  felt  a strange  commotion  within  him  as 
he  encountered  her  beseeching  eyes.  He  real- 
ized that  he  had  not  the  strength  to  repeat 
what  he  had  said  to  her  a few  moments  be- 
fore. 

The  complete  prostration  of  this  gentle  girl 
lying  before  him  terrified  him.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  had  given  her  a death  blow.  This 
temporary  suppression  of  life,  which,  if  ob- 
served in  another,  would  have  appeared  as  a 
simple  phenomenon,  curious  to  study,  produced 
on  him,  in  this  instance,  the  effect  of  something 
sinister,  criminal  even.  The  idea  of  the  dying 
lamb  haunted  him  with  persistent  tenacity. 

His  only  thought  now  was  to  calm  Lucie,  to 
console  her.  He  assured  her  there  was  no  truth 
in  what  he  had  said — nothing  definite  at  least. 
It  was  but  a test.  Yes,  a mere  test.  It  might 
have  been  wiser  to  cease  their  relations,  aban- 
don their  dream  of  a love  without  a culmina- 
tion or  without  reason ; but  it  were  better,  per- 


66 


HYPNOTISM. 


haps,  to  put  reason  aside!  They  loved  and 
would  continue  to  love,  since  she  desired  it!  He 
would  not  desert  her!  No,  he  would  never 
leave  her  alone  in  her  solitude.  He  would 
come  back  to-morrow,  and  nothing  would  be 
changed  in  their  existence.  She  would  not  be 
left  to  struggle  alone!  No,  no,  he  solemnly 
swore  it! 

‘‘  Are  you  reassured  now,  Lucie?  ” he  asked, 
in  conclusion. 

He  had  delivered  himself  of  these  fine  senti- 
ments in  his  most  persuasive  and  eloquent  tone, 
though  fully  aware  that  he  spoke  falsely.  “I 
must  console  her  at  any  cost  and  gain  time,” 
was  his  mental  restriction,  ‘‘  then  we  shall  see — 
I shall  write,  perhaps — I know  not  what  I may 
do  later,  but  I can  not  leave  her  in  her  present 
state!  ” 

While  he  spoke,  a joyful  flush  overspread 
Lucie’s  pale  features,  like  a wave  of  returning 
life;  and  in  her  blue  eyes,  which  a moment 
before  had  been  so  tragic  in  their  fixity,  there 
appeared  a smile  of  silent  thanks,  mingled 


HYPNOTISM. 


57 


with  an  expression  of  such  tenderness,  such 
confidence,  such  complete  abandon^  that  Jean 
shuddered,  terrified  by  the  passion  which 
pierced  him  like  a sword,  impelling  him  to 
seize  the  young  girl  in  his  arms  and  press  her 
to  his  heart. 


68 


HIPNOTISM. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Jean  had  found  the  strength  to  tear  himself 
from  Lucie’s  despairing  embrace.  He  was  re- 
turning home  as  free  as  when  he  had  left  it; 
the  young  girl  had  no  right  to  reproach  him 
or  to  demand  anything  from  him.  Yet,  he 
was  displeased  with  himself  for  not  having 
broken  his  bonds,  for  still  retaining  this  ab- 
surd love  in  his  life. 

‘‘I,  the  hero  of  a platonic  love!”  he  ex- 
claimed, with  a mocking  laugh.  “If  my 
friends  of  the  Qiiartier  knew  this,  how  un- 
mercifully they  would  banter  the  Mandarin!” 

Happily  for  Mornas’  pride,  they  did  not 
know  it.  Nor  did  any  one  else  suspect  it. 
Jean  had  kept  this  tender  corner  of  his 
life  as  secret  as  if  it  were  a defect.  Indeed, 
he  would  have  blushed  at  this  excess  of  purity 
as  at  a vice.  Still  deeply  agitated  by  the  sen- 


HYPNOTISM. 


69 


satioii  liis  abrupt  determination  had  produced 
on  Lucie,  still  seeing  before  him  her  motionless 
features  and  fixed  eyes,  he  reentered  his 
apartment  in  Eue  Eacine  with  his  brain  filled 
with  confused  thoughts.  The  mystery  sur- 
rounding these  nervous  attacks,  of  which  he 
had  seen  many  cases,  had  always  attracted  him 
strangely.  Often,  while  at  the  hospital,  or 
pouring  over  his  books,  he  had  asked  himself 
what  became  of  the  freedom  of  thought,  of  the 
will,  of  responsibility  in  those  disquieting 
cases.  With  Lucie,  for  instance,  this  was  not 
the  first  time  he  had  remarked  a morbid  ex- 
citement in  her.  On  the  night  of  their  first 
meeting,  he  had  been  struck  by  the  peculiar 
expression  in  her  haggard  eyes.  But  he  had 
never  suspected  that  this  natural  timidity  bor- 
dered on  disease.  She  had  been  frightened, 
but  her  terror  had  not  paralyzed  her  on  that 
night  when  she  had  been  attacked  by  foot-pads 
on  the  deserted  boulevard. 

And  what  a physical  impression,  a corporal 
terror  had  not  produced,  the  moral  suffering  of 


60 


HYPNOTISM. 


a shock  received  in  the  midst  of  happiness  had 
suddenly  brought  about.  The  nervous  affec- 
tion had  abruptly  manifested  itself.  Madame 
Lorin  had  often  spoken  of  the  nervous  disease 
from  which  her  daughter  had  suffered  during 
infancy;  butnow,  for  the  first  time,  Jean  clear- 
ly perceived  the  symptoms  of  a malady  he  had 
formerly  studied  with  curiosity,  though  the  ob- 
jects of  his  observations  had  hitherto  been  ab- 
solutely indifferent  to  him. 

Lucie  was  then  an  invalid ! It  was  therefore 
necessary  that  he  should  proceed  with  more 
precautions,  and  use  more  discretion  in  break- 
ing off.  At  heart,  he  did  not  regret  the  neces- 
sity of  putting  off  the  hour  of  rupture  with  this 
paragon,  so  flattering  to  both  his  vanity  and 
pride.  The  discovery  served  as  a valid  pre- 
text for  returning  to  Lucie;  and  he  tried  to 
convince  himself  that  if  he  returned  to  this 
lonely  little  home,  it  was  simply  through  his 
devotion  to  the  girl  and  not  in  obedience  to  the 
dictates  of  his  own  will. 

He  Anally  concluded  to  let  matters  drift  on 


HYPNOTISM. 


61 


in  their  natural  course,  whatever  the  conse- 
quences might  be.  It  was  evidently  a danger- 
ous thing  to  trifle  with  the  affections  of  a per- 
son afflicted  thus ; the  sufferer  might  be  driven 
to  madness,  or  what  was  wwse  still,  suicide. 
One  could  never  tell  what  a woman  might  do  if 
deprived  of  hope  and  consolation. 

“ And  whose  fault  will  it  be  if  it  ends  bad- 
ly?” he  concluded,  with  his  sarcastic  laugh. 
“‘Hell,’  says  the  proverb,  ‘is  paved  with  good 
resolutions!  ’ ” 

He  threw  himself  on  the  bed  immediately  on 
his  return  from  Montmartre;  and  while  in 
that  semi-unconscious  state  which  precedes 
sleep,  the  incidents  of  the  day  returned  to  his 
mind  in  their  regular  succession.  When  he  at 
last  fell  asleep,  his  dreams  seemed  like  frag- 
ments dislocated  from  the  living  reality.  Lucie 
appeared  to  him,  her  supplicating  eyes  turned 
wistfully  to  his.  He  attempted  to  fly ; but  she 
followed  him  automatically,  with  the  rigid 
step  of  an  animated  statue.  In  this  manner 
they  walked  swiftly  down  Eue  Audran  and  Eue 


62 


HYPNOTISM. 


Germain-Pilon,  her  dull,  heavy  step  still  re- 
sounding behind  him  and  her  icy  touch  chill- 
ing the  nape  of  his  neck. 

When  he  awoke  the  next  morning,  his  first 
thought  was  of  the  poor,  lonely  girl  and  he 
tried  to  find  some  pretext  to  see  her  again. 
Might  not  the  attack  of  the  previous  day  have 
left  some  trace,  and  might  he  not  be  of 
service  to  her?  But  no;  he  had  left  her  quite 
restored,  and  she  could  have  retained  no  worse 
recollections  of  the  scene  that  had  moved  her 
so  deeply  than  his  own  ridiculous  visions  of 
that  night  of  distress.  Moreover,  M.  de  la 
Berthiere  expected  him. 

M.  de  la  Berthiere  was  the  pretended  sa- 
vant who  confided  his  notes  to  Jean  for  correc- 
tion and  compilation,  who  received  him  regu- 
larly twice  each  week  in  his  study  and  labored 
with  him  in  the  preparation  of  a work  on 
“ Medicine  among  the  Arabs,”  destined  to 
perpetuate  the  glory  of  the  provincial  scholar, 
who  had  been  fired — even  on  his  paralytic  bed 
— by  his  ambition  for  academic  honors. 


HYPNOTISM. 


63 


Jean’s  interviews  with  his  employer  were 
like  conspirators’  meetings.  He  was  always 
introduced  into  this  house  on  Kue  Saint- 
Mederic  with  the  greatest  precautions,  as  if 
all  Versailles  were  on  the  alert  to  discover  the 
secret  of  the  old  man’s  erudition. 

This  Rue  Saint-Mederic,  so  neat  and  white, 
with  its  low  housed  ornamented  with  gray  bal- 
conies and  bright  colored  blinds  on  the  white 
walls,  is  one  of  the  most  silent  streets  of  that 
city  of  silence.  On  one  side,  the  horizon  is 
bounded  by  a sheer  cliff  crowned  with  lofty 
trees  that  wave  their  boughs  as  sadly  as  ceme- 
try  willows,  while  on  the  other  appear  the 
grated  windows  of  the  barracks  and  the  low 
walls  of  the  gardens  decorated  with  green  vines 
and  purple  bunches  of  grapes.  At  the  clos- 
ing hour  of  school,  childish  cries,  as  joyous  as 
the  songs  of  birds,  sometimes  ring  through  the 
quiet  street;  but  further  than  that,  no  other 
sound  ever  disturbs  the  stillness  save  the  foot- 
falls of  the  rare  pedestrians  on  the  hard  re- 
sounding pavement. 


64 


HYPNOTISM. 


M.  de  la  Bertliiere  was  a retired  Parisian 
magistrate,  who  possessed  a violent  passion  for 
odd  researches  in  occult  sciences,  therapeutics 
and  ancient  customs.  As  his  last  refuge,  he 
had  chosen  a house  with  historic  balconies 
and  of  showy  elegance ; the  narrow  doorway  of 
which  opened  from  the  corridor  into  a garden 
which,  with  its  perfumed  atmosphere  and 
flowery  splendors,  was  the  only  inviting  feat- 
ure of  the  place. 

The  old  book-worm  received  very  few  peo- 
ple in  his  chosen  solitude,  and  the  bolts  on  the 
narrow  door  were  as  securely  drawn  as  those 
of  a corridor  in  a cloister.  Even  when  his 
nephews  came  to  visit  this  old  recluse,  it  was 
only  after  long  waiting  and  many  impatient 
protests  that  they  succeeded  in  reaching  his 
study.  Jean,  on  the  contrary,  entered  at  once 
and  without  encountering  any  of  those  obsta- 
cles; the  servants  having  received  orders  to 
admit  him  quickly,  like  one  who  should  not  be 
seen  by  the  neighbors. 

On  entering  the  study,  Jean  would  find  his 


HYPNOTISM. 


es 


employer  stretched  upon  a couch,  his  emaci- 
ated form  enveloped  in  a long  dressing  gown 
and  his  head  covered  with  a skull-cap  of  black 
silk,  which  gave  a still  more  cadaverous  ap- 
pearance to  the  shrunken  features  in  which 
the  small,  restless  gray  eyes  sparkled  like  those 
of  a mouse.  In  this  vast  room,  filled  to  the 
ceiling  with  books,  the  old  man  spent  his  days, 
his  long  bony  hands  caressing  the  piles  of 
papers  spread  about  on  the  couch,  his  only 
joy  consisting  in  that  pleasurable  sensation 
which  the  touch  of  old  paper  gives  to  be- 
ings intoxicated  with  ink  and  distracted  with 
literature.  When  he  desired  to  communicate 
with  his  servants,  the  old  man  had  recourse  to 
an  acoustic  tube,  the  end  of  which  lay  upon 
the  pillow  beside  him,  always  in  reach  of  his 
lips. 

Taking  his  seat  at  a desk,  a few  feet  from 
the  bedside,  Jean  woujd  at  once  begin  the 
reading  of  the  manuscript  compiled  from  the 
notes  entrusted  to  him  by  the  old  man  on  his 
last  visit  Then  from  amongst  the  papers  on 


66 


HYPNOTISM. 


the  couch,  he  chose  those  which  were  useful 
for  future  work.  These  he  took  away  with  him 
and  compiled,  not  always  in  a manner  satisfac- 
tory to  the  one  who  was  to  sign  them,  however. 

“Yes,  that  is  not  bad — not  bad,”  the  old  man 
would  mutter;  “ but  I would  like  my  thoughts 
expressed  with  more  force.  Your  expressions 
are  weak,  insipid — and  my  thought — ” 

His  thought?  Jean  would  glance  up  an- 
grily at  such  an  interruption ; but  he  would 
quickly  change  the  expressions  to  suit  the  old 
man,  who  gave  vent  to  his  satisfaction  in  child- 
ish laughter. 

For  this  labor,  which  was  so  irritating  to 
him,  Jean  received  a pittance  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  franks  a month.  But  for  these  few 
louis,  which  barely  gave  him  bread,  he  sold  his 
youth  and  his  intelligence;  he  prostituted  his 
mind  to  the  caprices  of  another.  And  it  was  not 
without  a sensation  of  revolt  and  degradation 
that  he  left  the  house  in  Kue  Saint  Mederic 
after  his  regular  interviews  with  his  detested 
patron ! 


HYPNOTISM. 


67 


On  this  day,  however,  he  left  in  an  indescrib- 
able state  of  mind.  M.  de  la  Berthiere,  through 
an  odd  sentiment  of  self-forgetfulness,  born  of 
that  moral  complicity  which  bound  the  am- 
bitious old  savant  to  his  manufacturer  of  fame, 
had  allowed  himself  to  be  led  into  an  unex- 
pected confidence  with  Jean.  As  it  was  settling 
day  with  his  secretary,  he  had — after  some 
hesitation — requested  the  young  man  to  take 
from  among  the  books  on  a certain  shelf  a large 
encyclopedia,  and  bring  him  an  atlas  he  would 
find  in  the  space  behind  the  volume. 

“ An  atlas  ? ” — said  Jean. 

“Yes,  an  atlas,”  repeated  the  old  man, 
“ bring  it  to  me.” 

His  small  gray  eyes  were  fixed  attentively  on 
Jean  as  he  pulled  the  encyclopedia  toward 
him  and  thrust  his  hand  into  the  void  between 
the  other  volumes  on  the  shelf. 

“ Do  you  feel  it  there? — A large  atlas?  ” he 
asked,  anxiously. 

Jean’s  only  reply  was  to  exhibit  an  old  atlas 
of  the  last  century  in  a faded  binding,  and  lay 
it  oa  the  couch  beside  the  old  man. 


68 


HYPNOTISM. 


“ This  is  one  of  my  hiding  places,”  said  M. 
de  la  Berthiere,  with  a laugh  that  rang  in 
Jean’s  ears  for  a long  time  after.  “Yes,”  he 
added,  fixing  his  piercing  eyes  on  the  young 
man’s  face;  “ a hiding  place — It  astonishes  you, 
does  it  not  ? ” Then  turning  over  the  yellow 
leaves  with  his  bony  hands,  he  drew  forth  a 
lot  of  bank  notes,  which  he  gathered  into  sev- 
eral piles  and  pinned  together  with  pins  from  a 
cushion  on  the  small  table  beside  him. 

Jean  gazed  in  stupefaction  at  the  spectacle 
of  the  old  paralytic  extracting  bank  notes  from 
the  pages  of  this  antique  atlas,  gathering  them 
into  piles  of  uniform  amount,  and  slipping  them 
under  his  pillow.  Then  he  chose  two  notes,  one 
of  one  hundred  franks  and  one  of  fifty,  and 
tendered  them  to  Jean,  saying: 

“ Here  is  your  month’s  salary.  Monsieur 
Mornas ! ” 

M.  de  la  Berthiere  had  placed  twenty  times 
that  amount  under  his  pillow,  and  yet  the  atlas, 
whicli  Jean  had  held  in  his  hands  only  a few 
moments  before,  was  still  distended  like  a con- 


HYPNOTISM. 


69 


gested  pocket-book.  Then  the  old  man  begged 
his  collaborator  (he  must  have  had  great  confi- 
dence in  him)  to  place  the  atlas  behind  the  en- 
cyclopedia, cautioning  him,  however,  to  be  care- 
ful that  the  latter  volume  should  not  have  the 
appearance  of  having  been  displaced. 

“ Be  sure  that  it  is  exactly  in  line  with  the 
others,”  he  concluded,  “ for  I would  not  have 
anyone  but  you  suspect  what  is  hidden  behind 
itl” 

Jean  left  the  Bue  Saint-Mederic  after  this 
extraordinary  interview,  his  brain  in  a perfect 
whirl.  The  vision  of  this  helpless  man  and  the 
rows  of  big  books  behind  which  the  old  fool  hid 
his  money, was  continually  before  his  eyes.  Mad 
wild  ideas  and  morbid  temptations  crowded 
through  his  brain.  He  incessantly  repeated  to 
himself  that  with  the  money  hidden  away  be- 
tween the  yellow  pages  of  the  old  atlas,  he 
could  live;  live  happy,  or,  at  least,  tempt  for- 
tune by  risking  an  electoral  candidature  in 
some  obscure  province — for  the  right  of  mak- 
ing laws  is  paid  for  like  any  other  commodity 


70 


HYPNOTISM. 


— and  enter  the  human  struggle  with  munitions 
at  least.  “The  munition  required  is  money,” 
he  said.  And  there  was  money,  a great  deal 
of  money  in  that  little  study  on  the  first  fioor 
of  the  house  in  Hue  Saint-Mederic,  v/here  M. 
de  la  Berthiere  spent  his  days  and  where  he 
alone  entered  unchallenged,  stealthily  as  an 
accomplice;  the  old  man’s  vanity  being  strong- 
er than  his  fears  or  his  prudence. 

A sort  of  mocking  hallucination  took  posses- 
sion of  him  at  this  thought.  The  old  man’s 
couch  and  the  innumerable  books  on  the  shelves 
seemed  filled  to  overflowing  with  piles  of  bank 
notes.  Even  in  his  dreams  the  vision  pursued 
him,  and  he  would  start  up  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  his  throat  parched,  his  body  in  a fever; 
and,  in  the  shadows  of  his  little  room,  he 
seemed  to  hear  a sarcastic,  penetrating  voice 
exclaiming: 

“Behold  the  mandarin — the  famous  manda- 
rin, you  have  so  long  sought!  ” 

This  quickly  became  an  atrocious  obsession, 
a fixed  idea  that  was  frightfully  irritating. 


HYPNOTISM, 


71 


Evidently,  Jean  had  heretofore  used  the  bravado 
of  the  mandarin  as  a glistening  weapon  in  the 
tournament,  as  a pose  before  his  admiring 
auditors,  and  he  now  looked  upon  it  as  a cruel 
irony,  a dangerous  chance  that  fate  should 
have,  in  a manner,  thrown  into  his  hands  the 
paradox  in  tangible  form,  and  placed  this  atro- 
cious temptation  at  his  finger-tips. 

This  idea  forced  itself  into  his  brain  with 
the  penetration  of  a heated  iron.  He  felt 
himself,  as  it  were,  perforated  by  this  external 
reflection  as  by  an  auger.  Night  and  day, 
this  possibility  of  fortune  pursued  him  like  a 
haunting  vision.  He  continually  repeated 
to  himself  that  riches  were  there,  within 
reach  of  his  hand,  the  riches  which  had  al- 
ways escaped  him,  the  riches  which  had  always 
receded  from  his  grasp,  notwithstanding  all 
his  efforts — And  he  would  clench  his  fists  until 
the  nails  were  buried  into  the  flesh,  muttering 
— “ And  he  is  rich ! — ” 

This  temptation  followed  himwuth  increas- 
ing persistency.  His  slumbers  were  peopled 


72 


HYPNOTISM. 


with  nightmares  of  eternal  sameness,  with 
dreams  of  maddening  mockery,  of  strange  buf- 
fooney,  in  which  the  old  man  appeared  to  him 
in  a costume  of  yellow  silk,  with  a crystal  but- 
ton sewed  on  his  black  skull-cap,  and  gazing 
at  him  with  a meaningless  smile,  like  the  fig- 
ures on  Chinese  porcelain.  Sometimes,  M.  de 
la  Berthiere  assumed  the  costume  of  a man- 
darin on  an  umbrella,  and  the  impression  of 
the  dream  was  so  vivid  that  Jean  distinctly 
heard  the  old  paralytic’s  dry,  hacking  cough. 
Then  he  would  awake  with  a start  and  remain 
for  a moment  seated  upright  in  his  bed,  suf- 
focating, the  blood  rushing  to  his  temples,  and 
a sound  like  the  ringing  of  bells  resounding 
in  his  ears.  And  still,  as  always,  whether 
awake  or  asleep,  the  eternal  vision  of  the  old 
man  pinning  together  the  piles  of  bank  notes 
appeared  before  him. 

Then  all  he  had  so  often  repeated  in  his 
violent  harangues,  in  the  sinister  scoffings  of 
his  boasted  Bohemianism — the  necessity  of 
audacity,  the  inutility  of  patience,  the  stupidi- 


HYPNOTISM. 


73 


ty  of  honesty,  the  absurdity  of  remorse — all 
returned  to  Mornas  with  terrible  precision, 
taking  form  and  resolving  itself  into  the 
formula  of  the  problem:  “To  kill  the  man- 
darin!” 

Yes,  this  M.  de  la  Berthiere  was  indeed 
the  mandarin,  a mandarin  who  inhabited  Ver- 
sailles, and  not  Pekin,  but  he  was  nevertheless 
a useless  being,  an  ugly,  broken,  fragment  of 
life,  buried  and  congealed  in  his  egotism, 
dragging  out  a useless  existence  in  suffering, 
while  thirsting  for  glory  with  one  foot  in  the 
grave;  a miser  who  hoarded  a fortune  which 
served  neither  to  relieve  the  sufferings  of  a 
stricken  fellow-creature,  nor  to  dry  the  tears  of 
the  poor. 

“ Why  should  he  be  rich,  and  not  I ? ” Jean 
would  cry  out.  Then  he  would  add  impatient- 
ly: “ Ah!  if  I only  possessed  what  he  has  lying 
useless  between  the  pages  of  that  old  book! — ” 

This  thought  dazzled  him.  He  could  feel 
that  twitching  of  the  lips  which  a thirsty  per- 
son experiences  at  the  sight  of  water.  “ The 


74 


HYPNOTISM. 


mandarin ! — Fortune ! — Riches ! rang  continu- 
ally in  his  ears. 

And  without  even  considering  the  possibility 
of  the  accomplishment  of  what  automatically 
fired  his  brain,  he  began  by  degrees,  with  a 
sort  of  involuntary  labor  of  unconscious  cerebra- 
tion, to  trace  out  the  surroundings  of  the  crime. 

He  could  easily  gain  access  to  M.  de  la  Ber- 
thiere’s  study.  The  doors,  which  were  closed 
to  all  others,  were  open  to  the  anoymous  col- 
laborator. It  was  even  probable  that  the  very 
servants  were  ignorant  of  the  name  of  the  mys- 
terious personage  who  came  to  Versailles  from 
time  to  time.  He  was  known  merely  as  Mon- 
sieur’s secretary.  M.  de  la  Berthiere  would 
never  have  permitted  anyone  to  learn  the 
name  of  the  one  who  came  to  bring  him  the 
materials  of  his  future  glory. 

While  thus  alone  with  M.  de  la  Berthiere  in 
the  study  on  the  first  fioor,  who  was  to  prevent 
him  from  searching  those  books  wherein,  as 
in  certain  fairy  tales,  it  seemed  to  him  there 
were  untold  treasures  scattered  about  every- 


HYPNOTISM. 


75 

where.  M.  de  la  Berthiere  might  of  course 
call  for  assistance  through  his  acoustic  tube. 
But  by  simply  pushing  the  tube  beyond  the 
reach  of  his  hand,  the  paralytic  would  be  com- 
pletely in  Jean’s  power.  He  might  cry  out, 
perhaps,  but  his  cries  would  not  be  heard. 

But  if  they  were  overheard  ? 

Then — ah ! then — the  servants  would  rush 
in,  he  would  be  seized,  given  into  the  hands  of 
the  police,  taken  to  prison,  lost — 

No,  decidedly^  no  ; he  must  not  habituate 
himself  to  the  thought  of  such  a thing.  And 
Jean  endeavored  to  think  no  more  of  it.  For 
a few  hours  he  succeeded  in  forcing  it  from 
his  mind;  then  the  persistent  idea  returned, 
and  the  young  man  began  once  more  to  plan 
a possible  attempt  with  as  much  patient  per- 
severance as  if  he  were  seeking  the  solution  of 
a difficult  problem. 

On  his  next  visit  to  the  house  on  Hue  Saint- 
Mederic,  Jean  was  forcibly  struck  by  the  si- 
lence of  the  street.  It  seemed  so  far  removed 
from  the  rest  of  the  world ! — The  isolated  po- 


76 


HYPNOTISM. 


sitioii  of  M.  de  la  Berthiere’s  house  added  still 
more  to  the  possibilities  of  the  temptation. 
And  when  Mornas  heard  the  valet  announce  him 
as  ‘‘Monsieur’s  secretary,”  he  experienced  a 
sense  of  further  security.  It  was  evident  that 
the  servants  did  not  know  his  name.  But  then, 
they  would  certainly  find  his  name  in  some  of 
the  notes  scribbled  by  the  old  paralytic;  and 
besides  the  old  man’s  nephew  could  tell 
all— 

When  the  valet  had  closed  the  door  behind 
him,  Jean  stopped  motionless  in  the  middle  of 
the  study.  His  gaze  was  fixed  on  M.  de  la 
Berthiere  stretched  upon  his  narrow  bed;  and 
it  seemed  to  him  that  the  old  man  was  even 
more  emaciated  and  yellow’  than  usual. 
This  word — “ yellow  ” — involuntarily  brought 
to  Jean’s  mind  the  incessant  idea,  the  absurd, 
the  tenacious  idea  of  the  mandarin.  “The 
mandarins  are  of  a yellow  race,”  thought 
Jean,  as  he  stood  contemplating  the  old  man, 
who,  after  a moment  of  silence,  said,  in  a 
husky  voice: 


HYPNOTISMo 


77 


“ You  must  come  a little  closer.  I have 
had  an  accident  since  you  were  here  last.” 

“ An  accident!”  echoed  Jean. 

“Yes,  my  dear  Monsieur,”  replied  M.  de  la 
Berthiere.  “I  do  not  see  you!  No,  I can  not 
see  you!  ” 

A new  affection  had  indeed  rendered  the 
paralytic  temporarily  blind.  A sort  of  con- 
gestion had  invaded  his  eyes;  and  the  shriv- 
eled old  man,  lying  there  like  a withered  mum- 
my, could  no  longer  watch  Mornas  with  his 
sharp,  mouse-like  eyes. 

“ The  physician  assures  me  that  I shall  re- 
cover my  sight  in  a couple  of  weeks,”  went  on 
the  old  man.  “ Are  you  of  his  opinion  ? ” 

Jean  gave  some  reassuring  explanations, 
though  strongly  doubting  the  possibility  of  re- 
covery from  a new  shock  in  this  worn-out  body ; 
the  bodily  infirmities  having  already  invaded 
the  mind. 

His  replies  came  from  the  lips  only,  how- 
ever, for  his  thoughts  had  wandered  elsewhere. 
Should  the  temptation  of  taking  the  bank  notes 


78 


HYPNOTISM. 


occur  to  anyone,  the  old  man  could  not  even  see 
the  guilty  person  who  stole  them,  was  his 
uppermost  thought. 

It  was  no  longer  necessary  to  kill  the  man- 
darin to  become  rich — Merely  robbing  him 
would  suffice. 

Thrusting  this  ignoble  thought  abruptly 
from  him,  Mornas  approached  M.  de  da  Ber- 
thiere’s  bedside,  and  read  him  the  chapter  he 
had  compiled  since  his  last  visit.  It  was  en- 
titled: ‘‘  Observations  on  the  philosophy  of 
Arabian  physicians,”  The  author,  in  his  black 
silk  skull-cap,  listened  attentively,  nodding 
approvingly  now  and  then,  and,  extraordinary 
to  say,  he  was  neither  cross  nor  insolent  on 
that  day.  Through  the  open  window  a ray  of 
sunlight  penetrated  into  the  study,  brightening 
the  faded  gilding  of  the  old  volumes,  and 
stopping  even  longer  than  on  the  others  on  the 
title  of  the  large  encyclopedia  that  Jean  had 
removed  to  secure  the  atlas  on  his  last  visit. 

And,  instinctively,  the  young  man’s  eyes 
were  attracted  to  those  long  rows  of  enormous 


HYPNOTISM. 


79 


volumes,  behind  which  his  imagination  showed 
him  piles  of  bank  notes  which  he  might,  with 
a little  audacity — 

But  he  abruptly  cut  short  his  reflections  at 
this  point;  and  forcing  himself  to  resume  the 
yoke  of  his  labor,  he  continued  to  read  to  M. 
de  la  Berthiere,  striving  to  think  of  nothing 
but  the  phrases  which  he  annotated  without 
comprehending  their  sense ; while  his  thoughts, 
fired  by  wild,  ardent  desires,  searched  behind 
the  old  volumes  for  the  untold  treasures  con- 
cealed there. 


80 


HYPNOTISM. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

This  visit  to  the  Rue  Saint-Mederic  only 
seemed  to  intensify  the  violence  of  the  temp- 
tation which  beset  Jean.  In  the  evening  he 
went  to  Rue  Audran,  hoping  to  ease  his  troubled 
mind  by  the  spectacle  of  the  young  girl’s  gentle 
resignation  and  serene  smile.  But  he  found 
her  ill  and  extremely  nervous;  the  malady  of 
other  days,  the  affection  that  had  afflicted  her 
from  infancy,  seemed  to  have  returned  under  a 
new  form,  and  a deeper  sadness  seemed  to  have 
invaded  her.  As  he  contemplated  Lucie’s  pale 
features,  the  fixed  idea  penetrated  deeper  and 
deeper  into  his  brain;  uniting  in  a sudden  re- 
flection, and  in  a coincident  thought,  the  old 
man  he  had  just  left  and  this  young  girl  whose 
strange  malady  had  often  disturbed  his  mind 
since  he  had  seen  her  lying  in  that  cataleptic 
state  before  him. 


HYPNOTISM. 


81 


Jean  had  made  a special  study  of  those 
strange  nervous  diseases,  which  transform  into 
a passive  instrument  the  human  being  endowed 
with  will  and  conscience.  He  had  often  ex- 
perienced the  keen  enjoyment  of  a scoffer  and 
unbeliever,  in  kneading,  as  it  were,  at  his  pleas- 
ure, the  brains  of  those  creatures  who  under  the 
spell  of  hypnotism,  became  simply  instruments 
which  he  directed  at  will.  It  had  been  a refined 
pleasure  to  this  skeptic  to  seek  to  discover  what 
had  become  of  the  will  power  when  a hysterical 
subject  obeyed  the  wishes  he  imposed ; laughed, 
wept,  prayed  or  sang,  according  to  his  com- 
mand. He  also  frequently  asked  himself  if  an 
unused,  utilizable  force  did  not  exist  in  these 
very  maladies;  and  if  one  day  some  superior 
genias  would  not  succeed  in  the  application  of 
these  human  machines  to  some  practical  pur- 
pose. In  his  famous  harangues,  which  half  re- 
sembled the  ravings  of  a dreamer  and  half  the 
proclamations  of  an  army  general,  he  had  even 
built  up  a whole  Theory  of  the  Will  on  these 
magnetic  mysteries.  Comparing  the  human 


82 


HYPNOTISM. 


will  to  electricity,  he  claimed  it  might  be  used 
for  the  transmission  of  great  eflEprts  and  labo- 
rious tasks — to  transport  volition  to  a distance 
like  a current  of  electricity  or  like  light. 

And  for  several  days — since  his  last  visit  to 
M.  de  la  Berthiere — since  that  evening  spent 
wdth  Lucie  when  he  had  been  so  much  alarmed 
by  her  odd  emotion,  he  had  linked  the  young 
girl’s  personality  to  his  theoretic  reflections, 
placing  in  the  quasifantastic  frame  in  which 
was  ‘‘  the  mandarin,”  this  child  who  did  not 
even  suspect  that  there  was  a M.  de  la  Berthiere 
in  the  world. 

His  reflections  on  this  subject  Anally  brought 
him  to  the  conclusion  that  Lucie’s  sensitive  and 
impressionable  nature  could  easily  be  made  to 
obey  the  suggestions  imposed  by  an  exterior 
dominating  wall ; that  he,  if  he  wished  it,  could 
compel  her  to  undergo  whatever  tests  he  desired 
to  impose  upon  her.  And  he  quickly  acquired 
the  proof  of  his  deduction.  Smilingly  at  flrst, 
as  if  merely  in  jest,  he  had  exercised  his  influ- 
ence over  this  gentle  creature,  whose  will-power 


HYPNOTISM. 


83 


had  totally  deserted  her  at  the  first  hypnotic 
test;  and,  as  he  had  expected,  she  had  become 
what  professional  charlatans  called,  a docile 
subject  ” under  his  experimenting  will. 

Having  persuaded  himself  that  these  experi- 
ments would  be  of  service  to  him  in  his  studies, 
Jean  continued  his  tests  upon  Lucie,  who  lent 
herself  to  his  caprices  with  the  best  grace  im- 
aginable. Before  long  he  had  reached  a stage 
when  by  the  simple  pressure  of  his  fingers  upon 
the  closed  eyelids,  she  fell  into  one  of  those 
lethargic,  or  cataleptic  states,  which  quickly 
succeeded  each  other  in  her.  It  began  with  a 
shudder,  immediately  followed  by  a quivering 
of  the  entire  body  in  which  was  manifested  that 
sort  of  broken,  incoherent  language,  which 
science  compares  with  the  senseless  babblings 
of  chloroformic  slumber.  When  thus  under 
the  sway  of  his  will,  Mornas  would  abruptly 
give  her  orders,  suggest  strolls  in  an  imaginary 
garden,  where  she  gathered  invisible  fiowers, 
uttering  cries  of  delight;  or  again,  by  the  power 
of  his  thoughts,  he  would  transport  her  to  a 


84 


HYPNOTISM. 


theater  where,  listening  to  music  that  did  not 
exist,  she  moved  her  head  regularly,  to  and 
fro,  as  if  keeping  time  with  the  orchestra. 

Lucie  always  came  out  of  this  unconscious 
state  with  a sudden  start.  She  leaped,  as  it 
were,  in  one  bound  into  the  waking  state  with- 
out any  visible  lassitude;  retaining,  however, 
imprinted  in  her  brain,  the  thoughts,  the  ideas, 
the  suggestions  that  Mornas  had  impressed 
there  as  easily  as  would  yielding  wax  into 
which  he  had  pressed  a seal. 

Though  half  frightened  at  the  amazing  power 
of  this  human  force,  which  he  could  so  freely 
exercise,  Jean  felt  himself  decidedly  tempted — 
frightfully  tempted — by  the  possibility  which 
he  possessed  to  undertake,  with  Lucie  as  in- 
voluntary accomplice;  what  he  termed  a bold 
expedition. 

“What  have  I been  searching  for?”  he 
asked  himself,  as  he  gazed  about  him  at  the 
bare  walls,  the  narrow  iron  bedstead,  and  the 
blackened  table,  in  his  wretched  room.  “What 
have  I lacked?  The  occasion.  Well,  here  it 


HYPNOTISM. 


86 


is  at  last,  that  occasion  I have  so  long  sought 
in  vain.  If  I profit  by  it — and  I would  be  very 
silly  if  I did  not — I will  not  even  be  obliged  to 
kill  the  mandarin.  I have  merely  to  make  use 
of  the  opportunity  the  meeting  with  him  has 
brought  forth!  ” 

At  first  these  ideas  were  jumbled  in  Jean’s 
mind  like  a confused  mass ; then  they  gradually 
assumed  a clearer,  more  alarming  fixity.  The 
2oroblem,  as  he  called  it,  appeared  to  him  in  a 
clear  manner,  as  if  traced  on  a blackboard  with 
the  precision  of  a mathematical  theory.  In  M. 
de  la  Berthiere’s  study,  in  that  house  at  Ver- 
sailles, there  was  what  might  be  termed  a sort 
of  gold  mine,  where  an  audacious  man  might 
boldly  work.  Yes,  there,  in  those  old  books, 
hidden  by  the  old  miser,  who  did  not  even 
know  their  amount,  were  piles  of  bank  notes 
amounting  to  a sum  which  to  most  men  would 
be  a fortune;  but  which  to  Mornas  represented 
moreover  the  commencement  of  his  liberty,  the 
satisfaction  of  his  ambition,  a life  of  freedom ; 
and  freedom — with  whom  ? With  the  woman 


86 


HYPNOTISM. 


he  loved.  For  why  should  he  not  marry  Lucie 
if  he  were  rich  ? The  only  thing  he  dreaded 
was  wretchedness.  And  when  that  fear  was 
once  removed  from  his  life,  there  would  be  no 
reason  to  deter  him  from  sharing  his  existence 
with  the  young  girl. 

And  over  there,  in  that  house  in  the  Rue 
Saint-Mederic,  he  could  find  the  end  of  this 
misery — But  he  could  obtain  it  by  one  means 
only — Robbery!  The  word  had  caused  him  to 
shudder  when  it  had  appeared  to  him  for  the 
first  time  in  all  its  hideous  reality.  But,  was 
he,  Jean  Mornas,  who  professed  to  scoif  at 
everything,  now  to  be  turned  from  his  purpose 
by  a single  word? 

No,  decidedly.  But  the  risk  of  being  seen, 
of  being  suspected,  of  being  caught,  must  be 
avoided. 

But,  after  all,  robbery  was  something  cow- 
ardly, debasing,  Mornas  felt  that  his  fingers 
would  refuse  to  act  at  the  moment  of  commit- 
ting it.  He  had  an  instinctive  horror  of  the 
material  act.  He  could  sympathize  with  the 


HYPNOTISM. 


87 


corsair  who  pillaged,  but  not  the  sneak-thief 
who  robbed  by  stealth. 

Then  his  fixed  idea  brought  him  back  to  the 
contemplation  of  a combination,  the  learned 
irony  and  complicated  novelty  of  which 
pleased  him  and  incited  him  as  a challenge. 

What  was  most  tempting  in  the  old  question 
which  he  habitually  treated  with  the  skill  of  a 
professor  in  paradox; — the  question  of  a man- 
darin— was  that  he  might  be  killed  from  a 
distance,  and  without  even  leaving  a stain  on 
his  hands.  The  impossibility  of  the  moral 
problem,  so  often  set  up,  had  now  disappeared, 
thanks  to  science;  the  very  reality  of  it  gave 
him  the  power  to  strike  at  a distance;  to  com- 
mand the  obedience  of  a human  being  by  pres- 
sure on  the  brain,  as  on  an  electric  button.  He 
had  merely  to  will  it  and  say:  “I  wish  it!” 
to  have  his  desire  executed. 

And  by  whom  ? — By  Lucie  whom  he  adored, 
whom  he  dreamed  of  associating  with  his  ex- 
istence when  he  had  obtained  the  riches  he 
longed  for. 


88 


HYPNOTISM. 


She  had  no  suspicions  of  the  tempest  that 
surged  through  Jean’s  brain.  She  would 
never  suspect  it.  If  he  desired  it,  she  would 
submit — in  an  hypnotic  state — to  the  idea  he 
suggested;  she  would  obey  as  a slave,  she 
would  accomplish,  when  called  upon,  whatever 
order  he  would  give  her.  This  suggestion, 
which  places  the  disarmed,  passive,  tamed 
human  being  unreservedly  in  the  hands  of  the 
one  who  dominates  him,  this  suggestion  which 
might  be  employed  to  a good  purpose  by  im- 
posing on  degraded  souls  or,  on  savage  spirits 
ideas  of  honor  and  of  piety  which,  little  by 
little,  would  impress  themselves  there,  and  per- 
haps modify  the  morbid  or  wicked  spirit  of  the 
human  being — this  suggestion,  of  which  Mor- 
nas  knew  all  the  alarming  phenomena — why 
should  he  not  make  use  of  it  to  get  possession 
of  the  money  concealed  by  the  old  miser  in 
the  recess  behind  the  old  volumes  in  his  study  ? 

It  seemed  to  him  that  thus  set  up  as  a prob- 
lem to  be  worked  out,  the  robbery  lost  all  its 
vileness.  The  crime  was  transformed  into  an 


HYPNOTISM. 


89 


experiment.  To  Mornas,  there  was  something 
like  a scientific  research  ill  the  culmination  of 
this  infamy.  To  begin  with  M.  de  la  Ber- 
thiere’s  ferocious  egotism  was  not  a sentiment 
to  disarm  Jean.  Could  he  feel  any  remorse  in 
robbing  a man  whose  useless  wealth  was  to  go 
to  nephews  who  hated  and  scorned  him? 
What  did  a few  bank  notes  less  in  the  total 
of  the  old  man’s  estate  matter  to  people  who 
were  already  rich  and  whose  only  claim  to  M. 
de  la  Berthiere’s  fortune  consisted  in  bearing 
bis  name,  who  had  barely  seen  him  five  or  six 
times  in  their  lives  ? 

While  to  Jean  a package  of  these  bills  was 
the  enfranchisement,  the  commencement  of 
life!  Ambitious  as  he  was,  he  could  brave 
and  at  the  same  time  enjoy  life,  instead  of 
dragging  out  a wretched  existence  in  humili- 
ating labor.  To  what  eminence  might  he  nbt 
attain,  if  he  only  possessed  the  lever  of  money 
at  a time  when  audacity  opens  all  doors ! 

‘‘  And  the  old  paralytic  will  not  be  even 
aware  of  it,”  he  would  say  to  himself,  with  a 


90 


HYPNOTISM. 


chuckle,  “ No,  he  will  not  even  know  that  there 
are  a few  bank-notes  wanting  from  amongst 
the  yellow  pages  of  his  old  books.  And  I! — 
Ah ! What  a revenge ! ” 

Then  the  recollection  of  all  his  hatreds  re- 
turned to  him,  all  his  baffled  ambitions,  all  his 
unappeased  appetites,  all  his  lost  youth;  of 
the  long  days  of  despair  when  he  had,  more 
than  once,  walked  through  the  snow  in  ragged 
shoes,  muttering  to  himself  that, — if  he  had 
courage — he  could  live  peacefully  as  a peasant, 
over  there  in  that  sunny  land,  beside  the  blue 
ocean. 

Courage  indeed!  to  have  turned  back  now 
would  have  been  cowardice  I 

He  had  often  repeated  to  himself,  in  those 
days  of  dark  distress,  that  his  hour  would 
surely  come.  And  who  could  say  that  fate  was 
not  at  that  very  moment  pointing  to  it  on  the 
dial  of  the  time-piece  in  front  of  him  ? It  was 
perhaps  about  to  strike  1 Ah  I — riches,  or  if  not 
riches,  the  possibility  at  least  of  becoming  rich 
and  the  joy  of  being  free!  The  dream  almost 


HYPNOTISM. 


91 


assumed  tangible  form  in  his  eyes.  It  was 
there  within  reach  of  his  hand — There!  Or 
rather  over  there! 

“This  is  my  plan:  ” he  said  aloud.  “I  will 
‘simply  say  to  Lucie:  ‘You  shall  go  to  the  Rue 
Saint-Mederic  at  Versailles,  I will  hand  her 
a letter  which  will  secure  her  admission  to  the 
old  man’s  study.  She  will  be  alone — The  man 
is  paralyzed,  and  that  congestion  in  the  eyes 
has  made  him  temporarily  blind.  With  one 
gesture,  she  will  thrust  aside  the  acoustic  tube; 
and,  from  behind  the  large  encyclopedia,  she 
will  draw  forth  the  old  atlas  and  take  posses- 
sion of  the  bills  within  it.  She  shall  take  them 
all.  And  in  two  hours,  from  one  train  to 
another,  I will  bo  rich ! — ^Eich ! ” 

Yes,  it  was  very  simple.  It  seemed  to  Mor- 
nas  that  this  expedition  was  the  easiest  thing 
in  the  world.  He  ordered,  Lucie  obeyed,  she 
returned — All  was  said  and  done ! 

It  did  not  seem  possible  to  him  that  any  ob- 
stacle should  present  itself.  He  experienced 
a sort  of  pride,  filled  with  bravado,  in  declaring 


92 


HYPNOTISM. 


that  what  he  thus  decreed,  might  and  should 
bo  accomplished  whenever  he  desired,  as  if 
the  human  I will  had  suddenly  become  a man- 
date of  divinity. 

But  before  going  any  further,  he  wanted  to 
convince  himself  once  more  that  Lucie  submit- 
ted completely  to  the  impressions  that  might 
be  suggested  to  her.  The  young  girl  had  be- 
come his  absolute  slave  whenever  he  placed  her 
in  a somnambulistic  state;  but  Jean  desired  to 
take  all  measures  that  prudence  could  suggest 
before  attempting  the  combined  deed.  He 
accordingly  set  off  for  Eue  Audran.  Lucie 
was  seated  near  the  fire  working,  and  was  over- 
joyed to  see  him.  The  weather  was  intensely 
cold;  and  through  the  windows  could  be  seen 
the  roofs  of  the  neighboring  houses,  covered 
with  a layer  of  snow  that  glistened  coldly  under 
the  gray  sky.  His  coming  to  see  her  from 
such  a distance  in  such  inclement  weather,  she 
considered  as  a proof  of  his  great  love  for  her. 
It  did  not  require  much  attention  on  his  part 
to  make  the  poor  girl  happy. 


HYPNOTISM. 


93 


Leaving  her  work,  she  placed  a chair  in  front 
of  the  coke  fire  in  the  chimney,  that  he  might 
dry  his  wet  shoes;  and  then,  fixing  her  eyes 
upon  his  face,  she  contemplated  him  with  a 
kind  and  devoted  glance;  while  he,  his  hands 
resting  on  his  knees,  seemed  lost  in  thought,  as 
if  turning  over  lugubrious  ideas  in  his  curly 
head. 

Then  she  inquired  how  he  had  spent  his 
time  since  she  had  last  seen  him  two  days  be- 
fore, and  if  he  were  working.  She  advised  him 
to  avoid  working  too  hard ; she  had  suffered  from 
a sick  headache  during  the  last  two  days  as  a 
consequence  of  overwork.  But  happily  she 
had  met  Doctor  Pomeroy  while  on  her  way  to 
the  shop ; and  he  had  prescribed  quinine ; which 
had  done  her  so  much  good! 

“ And  if  you  are  ever  troubled  with  a sick 
headache,  Jean — ” 

She  stopped  abruptly,  and  broke  into  a gay 
laugh. 

‘'How  stupid  I am!”  she  exclaimed.  “ I al- 
ways forget  that  you  are  a physician!  ” 


94 


HYPNOTISM. 


‘‘  Or  nearly  so ! ” said  Mornas,  in  his  sarcastic 
tone. 

“You  are  a savant  least,”  she  rejoined, 
with  a bright  smile.  “Ah!  I am  quite  sure 
of  that,  for  I have  read  it  in  a newspaper.” 

“ A newspaper!  ” he  echoed. 

“Yes,  a newspaper,”  she  repeated,  as  she 
drew  from  the  drawer  of  her  work  table  a care- 
fully folded  copy  of  an  obscure  sheet  published 
in  the  Latin  quarter,  and  pointed  to  a biogra- 
phy of  the  Mandarin^  written  by  one  of  Jean’s 
comrades.  The  article  was  one  of  praise, 
wherein  the  writer  lauded  Jean’s  eloquence 
and  erudition,  of  which  the  great  public  was 
still  in  igDorance. 

The  young  man  shrugged  his  shoulders  as 
he  glanced  at  the  article  in  question. 

“Yes,”  he  said,  as  if  speaking  to  himself; 
“yes,  so  it  is!  I have  accomplished  nothing 
as  yet;  and  behold  my  biography  is  already 
published  in  the  newspapers.  We  shall  soon 
be  raising  statues  to  unknown  poets.  Come — ” 
and  his  voice  rang  forth  like  a trumpet  sound- 


HYPNOTISM. 


95 


ing  a charge — “it  is  another  reason  to  act  and 
to  exist!”  i 

Turning  to  Lucie  he  inquired  how  this  news- 
paper had  come  into  her  possession. 

“ Oh ! by  a mere  accident,”  she  replied.  “ It 
was  wrapped  about  some  work ; and  in  opening 
the  package,  your  name  caught  my  eye  and  I 
kept  it.  That  is  all.” 

Mornas  then  desired  to  know  what  she  had 
said  to  Doctor  Pomeroy.  Had  she  spoken  of 
him,  Mornas,  to  the  old  physician  ? 

“ Why,  no,”  she  replied,  “ we  did  not  speak 
of  you.  But  why  do  you  ask?” 

“ Because  it  is  unnecessary  to  mention  me  to 
anyone,  until  the  day — ” 

He  stopped,  and  involuntarily  glanced  at 
Lucie  with  an  expression  of  genuine  love,  of 
suppressed  passion  that  brought  a flame  into 
his  black  eyes.  She  uiiderstood  what  he  wished 
to  say.  Until  the  day  when  he  would  be  free 
to  love  her,  to  marry  her,  to  carry  her  off  where- 
ever  he  wished,  to  the  end  of  the  world  1 

She  was  fully  persuaded  that  this  day  would 


96 


HYPNOTISM. 


yet  come!  She  had  a blind  confidence,  a pro- 
found faith  in  the  young  man’s  future.  She 
knew  he  was  ambitious,  and  his  very  ambitions 
pleased  her.  She  felt  that  he  was  tortured  by 
his  humble  position,  by  the  miseries  he  was 
forced  to  undergo,  and  she  would  gladly  have 
sacrificed  herself — she  would  have  spent  nights 
in  labor  to  have  lessened  his  sufferings.  What- 
ever he  commanded  to  be  done,  she  did.  She 
would  not  have  dared  to  speak  of  him  to  any- 
one through  fear  of  displeasing  him.  She  had 
not  even  given  his  name  to  the  concierge  of  the 
house. 

“ Why  should  I speak  of  you  to  Doctor 
Pomeroy?”  she  continued,  “although  I con- 
sider him  rather  as  a relative  than  a physician. 
I was  delighted  to  see  him  again.  He  has  not 
[grown  any  older!” 

’ “ He  was  born  old,”  muttered  Jean. 

Doctor  Pomeroy  was  indeed  as  thin,  as  active 
and  as  devoted  as  ever;  his  hair  was  as 
long  and  as  white,  and  his  interest  in  the  poor 
as  intense  as  before.  When  Lucie  had  re- 


HYPNOTISM. 


97 


marked  that  he  had  not  changed,  the  good  old 
man  had  replied,  with  a paternal  smile: 

“So  it  is,-  my  child;  work  is  the  best  pre- 
servative! ” 

Jean  shook  his  head  dubiously  at  this  asser- 
tion, and,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  tips  of  his 
steaming  shoes,  said: 

“ This  Doctor  Pomeroy  is  worthy  of  the  Mon- 
tyon  prize!  Of  the  practitioner  Little  Blue 
Mantle!  How  fortunate  these  virtuous  people 
are — they  preserve  their  virtue  and  their  youth 
at  the  same  time!  ” 

And  his  voice  assumed  those  harsh  vibra- 
tions which  sometimes  frightened  Lucie. 

Suddenly  he  arose  as  if  to  leave ; then,  turn- 
ing abruptly  toward  the  young  girl,  he  took 
her  hands  and  stood  for  a moment  in  front  of 
her,his  eye  lids  expanded, his  gaze  fixed  intently 
upon  her  staring  pupils. 

These  mute  glances,  which  he  thus  forced 
into  her  eyes,  made  her  shudder  with  a sort  of 
constrained  uneasiness  that  was  not  entirely 
devoid  of  an  odd  sensation  of  sweetness.  She 


93 


HYPNOTISM. 


willingly  abandoned  herself  to  this  tender  mag- 
netism which  Jean  exercised  over  her,  and 
with  a contented  smile  allowed  him  to  fascinate 
her.  Placing  his  right  hand  upon  her  eyelids, 
Mornas  pressed  gently  on  the  closed  eyes ; and 
with  strange  rapidity,  Lucie’s  blonde  head  fell 
upon  her  shoulder  like  a child  overcome  by 
slumber,  and  this  living,  thinking,  and  usually 
conscious  being  became  abruptly  transformed 
into  an  automaton. 

Lucie  at  once  ceased  to  think  for  herself; 
Jean’s  mind  had  completely  overpowered  hers. 
All  the  hallucinations  which  his  will  forced  up- 
on her  brain  became  temporary  realities  to  her. 
She  laughed  when  he  told  her  to  do  so.  When 
he  said:  ‘‘You  are  two  years  younger  than  you 
suppose,  and  your  mother  is  still  alive.  She 
is  there,  look!”  the  poor  girl  immediately 
precipitated  herself  in  the  direction  indicated, 
to  embrace  her  beloved  mother.  Decidedly, 
she  submitted  to  the  suggestions  imposed  with 
frightful  alacrity.  But  what  Jean  wanted  to 
know  was  whether  in  Lucie,  as  in  the  majority 


HYPNOTISM. 


99 


of  such  subjects,  the  suggestion  survived  the 
awakening  and  continued  in  the  conscious 
state;  that  is  to  say,  whether  the  young  girl, 
when  awake,  would  execute,  without  even  sus- 
pecting the  force  to  which  she  obeyed,  the 
order  he  had  given  her  when  asleep. 

Tiiis  incredible  phenomenon,  Jean  had  no 
doubt,  would  produce  itself  in  Lucie  as  in  all 
those  hysterical  persons  whom  he  had  so  often 
hypnotized.  But  the  problem  whom  he  v/as 
working  out  was  formidable  enough  to  warrant 
him  in  taking  all  precautions  if  he  wished  to 
carry  it  to  a victorious  solution. 

In  pursuance  of  this  plan,  he  said  to  the 
still  unconscious  Lucie: 

“ I am  going  to  awaken  you  in  a minute. 
And  to-morrow,  do  you  understand?  to-mor- 
row at  ten  o’clock  precisely,  you  will  meet 
me  on  the  steps  of  the  Odeon!  — Do  you  under- 
stand ? To-morrow ! ” 

“ To-morrow,”  replied  the  young  girl,  re- 
peating his  words  like  an  echo. 

“At  ten  o’clock!” 


100 


HYPNOTISM. 


“ At  ten  o’clock!  ” 

“ Very  well,”  he  resumed.  “ You  will  hand 
me  this  ” — he  held  a pocket-book  before  her — 
“ which  1 will  leave  in  the  drawer  of  your 
work-table — in  the  drawer,  do  you  under- 
stand ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“And  the  precise  hour?” 

“Yes.” 

Then  he  breathed  quickly  on  Lucie’s  closed 
eyelids  and  she  awoke  at  once,  rubbing  her 
eyes  and  trying  to  smile,  but  with  a vague  ex- 
pression of  trouble  and  anxiety  portrayed  on 
her  features.  She  did  question  him  on  what 
he  had  said  to  her  during  her  slumber,  how- 
ever; and  perhaps  she  was  not  even  certain 
that  she  had  slept. 

He  left  her  almost  immediately,  without  re- 
minding her  of  anything.  He  merely  said 
that  he  could  not  tell  when  he  would  come 
again ; but  promised  to  come  soon,  as  soon  as 
it  was  possible. 

“To-morrow?”  she  asked. 


HYPNOTISM. 


101 


“ To-morrow,  perhaps,”  he  replied,  and  he 
left  her  smiling. 

Mornas  spent  the  entire  evening  repeating 
to  himself  that,  if  Lucie  submitted  in  a waking 
state  to  the  suggestion  he  had  dictated  to  her 
during  her  hypnotic  sleep,  if  she  came  to  the 
meeting-place  at  the  hour  fixed,  nothing,  no, 
nothing,  could  prevent  her  from  executing  the 
more  important  order  he  was  to  give  her  later. 
And  after  a restless  night,  he  awoke  the 
next  morning  after  having  again  dreamed  of 
old  M.  de  la  Berthiere,  dressed  in  the  fantastic 
costume  of  the  autocrat  of  the  yellow  country. 


102 


HYPNOTISM. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

A few  minutes  before  ten  o’clock  Jean  ar- 
rived at  the  foot  of  the  steps  leading  up  to  the 
Odeon,  and  eagerly  scanned  the  faces  of  the 
pedestrians  who  hurried  along  the  snow-cov- 
ered walk. 

Five  minutes  to  ten,  three  minutes  to  ten, 
and  still  Lucie  had  not  appeared. 

But  at  precisely  ten  o’clock  he  uttered  an 
involuntary  cry  of  joy  as  he  caught  sight  of 
the  young  girl  coming  rapidly  across  the  mud- 
dy square  in  the  direction  of  the  place  he  was 
standing. 

When  she  perceived  Jean,  she  stopped  and 
gazed  at  him  in  astonishment,  as  if  taken  by 
surprise. 

“Ah!  it  is  you,  Lucie!  ” he  exclaimed. 

“ Yes,  it  is  I,”  she  said,  with  a smile. 

“ What  chance  has  brought  you  here  ? And, 


HYPNOTISM. 


103 


what  are  you  doing  in  this  quarter,  at  this 
hour  ? ” he  asked. 

“I  come,”  she  replied,  a half  frightened 
smile  again  overspreading  her  features.  “ I 
come  to  bring  you  the  pocket-book  you  forgot 
in  a drawer — in  my  rooms, — yesterday ! ” 

And  she  tendered  the  pocket-book  to  Mornas 
who  took  it,  feigning  to  not  understand  her. 

“Thank  you — ” he  said.  “But  who  told 
you  to  bring  this  pocket-book  to  me  ? ” 

“ Who  told  me? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ No  one — I don’t  know — But  I knew  that 
I was  to  bring  it  to  you  to-day,  at  ten  o’clock 
— and  to  this  very  place.” 

“What!  here  in  front  of  the  Odeon?  ” 

“Yes,  in  this  exact  spot.” 

“Ah!  And  suppose  you  had  not  found  me 
here?” 

“Oh!  I was  to  find  you  here — I was  cer- 
tain of  finding  you — And  besides,  as  I tell  you, 
I had  to  come — I was  forced  to  come.” 


“Why  so?  ” 


104 


HYPNOTISM. 


“Something  told  me  to  do  so.” 

She  spoke  with  a sort  of  gentle  decision 
which  confused  her  a little,  as  if  ashamed  of 
being  unable  to  give  a better  explanation  of 
the  obsession  to  which  she  had  submitted,  of 
the  irresistible  impulse  which,  without  visible 
cause,  had  impelled  her  to  carry  to  Mornas — 
and  to  this  very  spot — this  pocket-book,  which 
she  might  have  returned  on  his  next  visit  to 
Eue  Audran.  It  was  a something  stronger 
than  herself,  she  explained.  She  had  been 
forced  to  obey  the  idea  that  she  must  be  there 
to  meet  him,  at  ten  o’clock  precisely. 

When  he  insisted  and  repeated  his  question : 
“Who  ordered  you  to  come?”  she  invariably 
replied  with  the  same  confused  expression : 

“Who? — I do  not  know — No  one — Myself, 
perhaps — It  is  very  strange;  but  I could  not 
resist  coming!  ” 

Jean  was  overjoyed  at  his  triumph.  It 
was  easy  enough  to  renew  this  aimless  experi- 
ment by  boldly  dictating  to  Lucie  the  rol^  he 
had  assigned  her  in  the  drama  he  had  so  skill- 


HYPNOTISM. 


105 


fully  planned.  It  consisted  simply  in  putting 
into  action  the  series  of  events  he  had  so  care- 
fully combined.  But  when?  Now,  at  once! 
He  had  waited  long  enough;  he  had  endured 
too  many  days  of  wretchedness  to  delay  any 
longer.  The  moment  had  come  when  he  must 
utilize  the  mandarin  as  a stepping  stone,  and 
boldly  take  advantage  of  the  advances  made 
by  fortune. 

“ You  must  not  be  faint-hearted,  Jean!  ” he 
exclaimed.  “ It  will  serve  you  nothing  to  play 
the  role  of  Joseph! — and  besides,  you  have  not 
even  the  coat  to  leave  in  the  hands  of  the  rob- 
bers! To  arms,  Mornas!” 

That  very  night  he  went  to  Lucie’s  apart- 
ments. He  hypnotized  her  as  he  had  done  on 
previous  occasions ; and,  when  the  poor  girl  was 
soundly  asleep,  he  proceeded  slowly  to  impress 
upon  her  mind  the  fixed  idea,  which  she  could! 
not  escape,  which  would  dominate  her  and  im- 
pel her  to  carry  out  his  commands  the  next  day; 
which  would  be  stronger  than  her  honesty  and 
her  conscience;  the  obsessing  idea  against 


106 


HYPNOTISM. 


which  she  would  perhaps  try  to  struggle — as 
the  bird  flutters  its  wings  under  the  fascination 
of  the  reptile  which  it  cannot  evade — but 
which  she  would  nevertheless  put  into  execu- 
tion, surely,  mechanically,  and  at  the  time 
stipulated,  as  she  had,  without  knowing  why, 
brought  the  pocket-book  to  the  place  indicated 
by  him.  Grasping  her  flrmly  by  the  hands  he 
held  her  powerless  under  his  superior  will, 
while  he  dictated  step  by  step  the  tragic 
programme  she  was  to  follow.  She  would  take 
a train  at  the  Saint-Lazare  station,  at  one 
o’clock;  she  would  be  in  Versailles  in  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour.  There  she  would  take 
the  tramway  which  passed  before  the  entrance 
to  the  station,  and  go  in  the  direction  of  the 
Quartier  Saint-Louis.  She  would  ask  the  con- 
ductor to  stop  at  Bue  Saint-Mederic,  and  M.  de 
la  Berthiere’s  house  was  the  fourth  from  the 
corner  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  street.  He 
repeated  the  number  to  her  twice,  that  it  might 
be  indelibly  imprinted  in  her  memory.  She 
would  ring,  and  insist  on  being  admitted  to  the 


HYPNOTISM. 


107 


old  man’s  study.  She  would  say — without 
giving  any  name — that  she  came  with  “ What 
Monsieur  expected,”  and  present  a letter  given 
her  by  Mornas,  in  which  he  begged  M.  de  la 
Berthiere  to  admit,  secretly,  the  person  whom  he 
sent  with  a corrected  chapter  of  his  manuscript. 

This  secret,  which  the  pseudo-scholar  de- 
sired to  conceal,  would  no  doubt  prove  a sesame 
to  the  study,  the  famous  study  where  each 
hidden  book  was  perhaps  a sort  of  treasure  box 
to  the  old  miser.  If,  by  chance,  M.  de  la  Ber- 
thiere, who  never  received  anyone  except  his 
physician,  should  be  engaged  with  a visitor, 
Lucie  would  wait.  But  it  was  probable  that 
she  would  be  ushered  into  the  old  paralytic’s 
presence  without  delay;  and  the  moment  the 
latter  learned  her  business,  he  would  certainly 
lose  no  time  in  ordering  that  he  be  left  alone 
with  Jean’s  messenger. 

And  once  alone  with  him,  Lucie  would  obey 
like  an  automaton  the  suggestion  Mornas  had 
imposed  upon  her. 

“ Listen,  and  retain  carefully  what  I’m  going 


108 


HYPNOTISM. 


to  tell  you,”  repeated  the  young  man,  in  a tone 
which  he  endeavored  to  render  severe.  “ M. 
de  la  Berthiere  can  call  for  help;  he  must  not 
do  so!  He  is  blind,  at  least  temporarily  so. 
He  can  neither  see  nor  stir.  You  will  remove 
the  acoustic  tube  from  his  pillow  so  that  he 
cannot  use  it;  and,  noiselessly,  from  behind 
volumes  IV  and  V of  the  Encyclopedia — the 
Encyclopedia^  do  you  understand?” 

The  Encyclopedia!'^’^  repeated  Lucie  in  a 
firm  voice,  as  if  imprinting  each  word  in  the 
depths  of  her  memory. 

‘‘Behind  volumes  IV  and  V.” 

“ Volumes  IV  and  V. — very  well!” 

“You  will  find  an  atlas,  bound  in  faded  leather. 
You  will  take  it.  There  must  also  be  other  books 
beside  it  which  contain  bank-notes — but  I am 
not  sure — do  not  waste  any  time  in  searching 
elsewhere..  The  atlas,  the  atlas  alone,  you  under- 
stand? The  atlas  is  what  you  seek.  You  must 
empty  it  of  all  the  bills  it  contains ; or,  if  you 
have  not  time  to  do  that,  slip  it  under  your 
shawl  and  replace  the  volumes  of  the  ency- 


HYPNOTISM. 


109 


clopedia  exactly  as  they  were — is  it  under- 
stood? ” 

Motionless  and  in  her  petrified  attitude,  the 
poor  girl  made  no  reply ; but  her  entire  counte- 
nance was  convulsed  as  if  by  interior  suffer- 
ing, it  expressing  a struggle  of  conscience  and 
a poignant  distress.  It  was  the  inevitable  in- 
surrection of  her  personality  struggling  against 
the  obsession  of  his  orders,  as  a sleeping  per- 
son struggles  against  the  evil  temptations  of 
certain  dreams.  There  was  at  that  moment  in 
Lucie,  a duality  of  persons:  the  honest  girl 
and  the  hypnotized  victim — the  one  revolting 
at  the  horror  of  the  temptation  presented  to 
her;  the  other  controlled  entirely  by  Mornas’ 
will  and  submitting  passively. 

Jean  clearly  realized  the  struggle  going  on 
within  her  in  the  agonized  expression  of  her 
pale  features;  and  seizing  her  hands  once 
more,  he  said  in  a harsh,  almost  menacing 
tone: 

“You  must  do  this,  do  you  understand? 
— you  must  do  it!” 


110 


HYPNOTISM. 


She  made  no  reply,  but  a shudder  like  that 
produced  by  an  electric  shock  shook  her  entire 
body,  and  her  features  assumed  the  pained  ex- 
pression seen  in  the  faces  of  martyrs. 

‘‘  I desire  it!  ” went  on  Mornas,  firmly.  ‘‘  I 
desire  it!  Do  you  understand?  I desire  it, 
and  it  must  be  done!  ” 

Then  he  added,  for  it  is  necessary  to  give 
honest  reasons  to  these  beings,  even  when  thus 
spell. bound,  to  make  them  act. 

‘‘  The  money  which  you  shall  find  there,  was 
stolen  by  that  man.  It  will  not  be  a robbery 
to  take  it  from  him;  only  a mere  act  of  restitu- 
tion.” 

After  a moment  of  silence,  so  profound  that 
he  could  hear  Lucie’s  heart  beating  as  if  in  a 
crisis  of  palpitation,  he  said  again: 

“ You  will  do  it?  ” 

“Yes,”  replied  Lucie,  in  a faint  voice. 

‘‘You  will  do  so,  in  spite  of  your  possible 
hesitations,  in  spite  of  all  obstacles?  ” 

“ Yes,”  she  replied  again. 

“And  when  it  is  done,  you  will  bring  me, 


HYPNOTISM. 


Ill 


at  my  lodgings,  the  atlas  or  the  bank-notes  it 
contains?  ” 

‘‘At  your  lodgings?”  she  asked  inquir- 

ingly- 

“ Yes,  in  Eue  Eacine,  and  that  very 
night?  ” 

“ Yes,”  she  repeated  once  more. 

As  she  continued  to  reply  to  his  questions, 
Lucie’s  voice  gradually  became  firmer,  as  if 
the  strength  to  struggle  had  abruptly  given 
place  within  her  to  an  eager  desire  to  obey. 

Then  he  awoke  her  suddenly ; and  after  the 
first  moment  of  surprise  and  agitation,  the 
gentle  smile  returned  to  her  lips  and  the  ex- 
pression of  profound  tenderness  came  back  into 
her  calm  blue  eyes.  Then  without  the  least 
recollection  of  the  order  Mornas  had  dictated 
to  her,  and  which  at  the  appointed  hour  the 
following  day  she  would  carry  out  in  all  its  re- 
volting details,  she  began  to  chat  with  him  of 
their  projects,  of  their  future,  of  the  hidden 
life  they  were  leading,  of  their  chaste  love,  of 
that  distant  time  of  sadness  which,  thanks  to 


112 


HYPNOTISM. 


him,  had  been  transformed  into  happiness  for 
her. 

The  word  happiness  had  at  first  brought  a 
bitter  smile  to  Jean’s  lips;  then  he  bethought 
himself  that,  after  all,  happiness  was  perhaps 
not  so  far  away.  Yes,  he  hoped  to  attain  happi- 
ness— and  very  soon ! 

“Ah!  if  a certain  project  is  only  success- 
ful,” he  said,  pointedly. 

“What  project?”  asked  Lucie,  in  evident 
surprise. 

Mornas  was  lost  in  amazement  at  this  mys- 
terious phenomenon.  What!  this  woman  to 
whom  he  had  given  such  formal  orders  only  a 
few  minutes  before,  and  who,  the  very  next  day, 
would  convert  into  acts  what  was  to  him  only 
a combination  of  ideas  as  yet,  had  no  suspicion 
-ot  the  obsessing  idea  she  carried  within  her, 
Ithat,  unknown  to  her,  had  been  born  and  now 
thrived  in  her  brain!  There  were  therefore 
two  persons  in  the  woman  before  him:  one  the 
unconscious  machine,  the  instrument  he  would 
use  to  attain  his  end;  the  other,  the  adored 
and  respected  creature  whom  he  intended  to 


HYPNOTISM.  113 

associate  with  his  riches  and  his  life,  if  his  pro- 
ject succeeded. 

And  it  would  succeed ! Why  should  it  not  ? 
No  one  at  M.  de  la  Berthiere’s  house  had  any 
knowledge  of  Lucie’s  identity;  and  it  was 
agreed  that  she  should  give  no  name  when  ap- 
plying for  admission  to  the  old  man’s  study 
Nothing  but  a fev/  explanatory  words  that 
would  serve  as  a passport ; that  was  all,  save 
the  letter  concerning  the  manuscript  of  the 
famous  work  which  would  assure  M.  de  la 
Berthiere’s  glory  and  bring  him  fortune  I 

Each  to  his  ambition!  ” thought  Jean. 

The  paralytic  could  neither  see  nor  hear 
Lucie  while  she  deranged  the  books.  He 
would  discover  his  loss  only  after  several  days 
had  elapsed,  provided  he  lived  that  long. 
But  then  who  could  he  accuse? 

He  would  certainly  never  dream  of  accusing 
him,  Mornas,  the  secretary  to  whom  he  entrusted 
his  dearest  secret!  And  even  admitting  that  his 
suspicions  should  fall  upon  the  young  man,  his 
egotism,  his  prudence,  would  keep  him  silent. 


in 


HYPNOTISM. 


Could  suspicion  fall  on  Lucie?  No,  de- 
cidedly no;  for  M.  de  la  Berthiere  did  not 
know  her  and  would  not  learn  her  name;  and 
if  the  old  man  ever  spoke  of  her,  Jean  would 
answer  for  her  as  for  himself. 

Yes,  certainly  beyond  per  adventure,  the 
project  would  succeed!  Yes,  Jean  Mornas 
would  be  rich!  Yes,  the  Mandarin  would  be 
forced  to  relinquish  a part  of  his  fortune  to 
this  bold  adventurer  w’ho  demanded  it  by  rea- 
son of  his  intrepidity,  as  the  ferocious  Malay 
pirate  demanded  it  by  virtue  of  his  kriss  and 
dagger.  Yes,  a change  was  about  to  come 
over  the  lives  of  Lucie  and  Jean.  And  happi- 
ness would  go  hand-in-hand  with  youth  and 
love!  With  the  youth  passed  in  poverty  and 
wretchedness  and  the  love  that  had  been 
stifled  until  then!  But  what  a revenge  it  would 
be! — To-morrow  would  bring  him  life!  He 
now  began  to  taste  the  joys  of  existence! 

And  Mornas  already  inhaled  the  delicious 
odor  of  the  feast  in  store  for  his  eager  teeth 
and  the  craving  appetite  that  devoured  him. 


HYPNOTISM. 


115 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

Long  before  the  hour  when  Lucie  was  to  take 
the  train  for  Versailles,  Mornas  had  taken  his 
seat  on  a bench  facing  the  ticket  window  in  the 
large  waiting-room  of  the  Saint-Lazare  station. 

H©  was  gazing  abstractedly  before  him,  at 
the  few  arrivals  whose  footsteps  resounded 
so  clearly  on  the  asphalt  of  the  hallway,  and 
who  hurried  toward  the  deserted  gates  in  the 
gray  light  which  filtered  through  the  skylights 
in  the  lofty  roof.  A damp  atmosphere,  smell- 
ing of  melted  snow,  pervaded  the  entire  place, 
and  a gloomy  silence  seemed  to  have  settled 
upon  this  room,  so  gay  and  noisy  during  the 
summer  season.  Through  the  largo  windows, 
the  walls  and  roofs  of  the  city  appeared  like  a 
dismal  gray  patch  of  smoke  and  filth  under 
their  mantle  of  white  sno  w.  On  the  walls  were 
several  placards,  dating  back  to  previous 


116 


HYPNOTISM. 


months,  displaying  the  names  of  fashionable 
watering-places  and  seeming  as  mournful  as  ex- 
tinguished fire-works.  Half  asleep  on  neigh- 
boring benches  were  a number  of  shabbily 
dressed  men,  who  had  evidently  come  hither 
to  escape  the  sharp  winds  and  biting  frost  of 
the  streets.  As  his  eyes  mechanically  wandered 
from  one  to  another  of  these  poor  wretches, 
Mornas  could  not  help  thinking  that  here,  at 
least,  were  people  who  were  poorer  and  more 
miserable  than  himself.  “ And — more  honest, 
perhaps,”  he  added,  with  an  involuntary  shud- 
der. ‘‘These  poor  devils  never  dream  of  rob- 
bing the  mandarin.  They  are  grateful  to  find 
shelter  for  their  ill-clad  bodies  in  the  relative 
warmth  of  this  room ! ” 

Rising  from  his  seat,  Jean  walked  toward 
the  men  and  examined  them  more  closely.  Not 
one  amongst  them  had  the  face  of  a man  dis- 
gusted with  existence.  Then,  it  was  possible 
to  resign  one’s  self  to  live  thus! 

“Bah!”  he  exclaimed,  as  he  resumed  his 
former  seat;  “it  is  merely  the  degradation  pro- 


HYPNOTISM. 


117 


duced  by  want!  And  besides,  I have  otlier 
appetites  because  I have  other  faculdes.  Let 
each  one  live  according  to  his  desires!  It  is 
the  least  he  may  demand!  ” 

Then  he  began  to  think  of  Lucie.  She  had 
not  come  yet.  Jean  glanced  at  the  dial  of  the 
clock.  It  still  wanted  three  minutes  of  the 
hour.  But  the  hands  were  moving  on;  she 
should  be  here  by  this  time. 

But  if  she  did  not  come  at  all  ? If  the  revolt  of 
her  pure  nature,  the  tempest  of  her  conscience, 
should  prove  too  strong  for  the  suggestion? 
If  the  will  had  driven  out  the  obsession  like  a 
bad  dream?  If — But  Jean  Mornas,  who  had 
so  suddenly  become  skeptical  of  his  powers, 
stopped  short  in  his  meditations  and  allowed  a 
low  cry  to  escape  his  lips  when  at  the  top  of  the 
steps  leading  from  the  street  he  saw  Lucie 
advancing  with  a stiff,  rigid  step  of  a statue 
and  going  unhesitatingly  in  the  direction  of  the 
window  marked  “ Yersailles.” 

‘‘She  has  come!”  he  murmured,  a singular 
emotion  suddenly  overcoming  him  as  he  real- 
ized her  presence.  ^ 


118 


HYPNOTISM. 


At  that  moment  he  could  almost  have  wished 
she  had  resisted.  A presentiment  of  some  ca- 
tastrophe abrubtly  invaded  him.  A terrible  fear 
took  possession  of  him,  and  while  Lucie  was 
approaching  the  window  to  purchase  her  ticket, 
he  w^as  asking  himself  whether  he  had  not 
better  intercept  her  in  the  passage  and  prevent 
her  from  accomplishing  what  he  had  ordered 
her  to  do — Then  he  was  ashamed  of  his  terror. 
Was  it  to  recoil  at  the  last  moment  that  he 
had  begun  the  solution  of  this  problem  with 
destiny  ? — Would  he  push  the  chess-board  from 
him  at  the  very  moment  when  he  was  about  to 
win  the  game?  No.  The  die  was  cast — and 
so  much  the  worse  for  the  mandarin  who  ob- 
structed his  path. 

Lucie  had  by  this  time  turned  away  from  the 
ticket  window,  and  with  the  same  quasi-me- 
chanical movement  as  before  was  advancing 
towt^rd  the  door  of  the  waiting-room.  Mornas 
feared  that  she  might  see  him,  or  come  in  his 
direction  without  knowing  it,  and  he  instinct- 
ively drew  away  a few  paces.  This  precaution 


HYPNOTISM. 


119 


was  entirely  unnecessary,  however.  The  young 
girl  seemed  to  see  nothing,  and  walked  on  as 
if  impelled  by  an  invincible  idea,  her  eyes  fixed 
straight  before  her. 

For  a moment  she  stood  hesitatingly  on  the 
threshold  of  the  room,  then  entered.  Jean  ap- 
proached the  window  and  pressed  his  face  to  the 
glass  to  see  her  again.  There  was  still  time  to 
stop  her  in  this  path  to  crime  which  she 
was  unconsciously  following — “No,  no;  it 
would  be  stupid!  ” he  muttered.  “ It  would  be 
cowardly  to  do  so  now!” 

Through  the  semi-obscurity  of  the  hallway 
he  could  distinguish  a shadow  against  the  dim 
background  of  the  entrance,  where  the  heaps 
of  snow  and  the  white  smoke  of  the  locomo- 
tives mingled  with  the  horizon  of  gray  sky.  It 
was  Lucie,  still,  upright  and  rigid.  Then  the 
gat©  leading  from  the  station  was  pushed 
open  by  an  employe,  and  the  few  passengers 
passed  out  from  the  gloomy  hall-way  to  the 
platform  where  the  train  w^as  waiting.  Jean 
watched  the  shadowy  form  of  the  young  girl 


120 


HYPNOTISM. 


until  it  had  disappeared  into  one  of  the  coaches ; 
then,  with  a sigh  of  relief,  he  turned  away. 

“ It  is  done,”  he  thought.  “ And  so  much 
the  better!  ” 

Relieved  from  the  anxiety  that  had  devoured 
him  since  the  previous  day,  confident  and  al- 
most proud  of  himself,  Morn  as  went  thought- 
fully down  the  steps  and  passed  through  tlie 
arcade  of  the  station.  At  the  news-stand  he 
stopped  for  a moment  to  glance  at  an  illustrated 
paper  wdierein  a ferocious  crime  was  represented 
in  all  its  revolting  reality.  As  he  examined  it, 
a mocking  smile  came  to  his  lips  and  a scornful 
light  gleamed  within  his  eyes.  “ What  im- 
beciles! ” he  exclaimed;  “ as  if  it  Avere  neces- 
sary to  have  recourse  to  tragedy  to  succeed  and 
to  conquer!  ” 

As  he  turned  aAvay  from  the  contemplation 
of  this  picture  of  odious  brutality,  Mornas  ex- 
perienced a sentiment  of  self-content  rising 
within  him.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  Avas  the 
inventor  of  some  curious  and  perfect  Avork  of 
art.  The  irony  of  his  refractory  nature  made 


HYPNOTISM. 


121 


him  look  upon  this  application  of  science  to  the 
satisfaction  of  his  ambition  as  a skillful  crea- 
tion. There  was  within  him  that  infatuation 
of  the  experimenter,  whom  experiments  interest 
as  does  a wager,  and  of  the  player  who  stakes 
his  life  on  the  green  cloth.  But,  this  time  the 
player  risked  only  his  chance  of  becoming  rich. 
It  was  impossible  that  Lucie  should  be  taken  by 
surprise  while  performing  the  orders  he  had 
imposed  upon  her.  It  was  also  equally  im- 
possible that  the  young  girl’s  name  or  where- 
abouts should  ever  become  known,  even  sup- 
posing that  M.  de  la  Berthiere  should  come  to 
suspect  her  later  on. 

The  old  paralytic  would  no  doubt  be  carried 
off  to  death  before  he  even  suspected  the  dis- 
appearance of  the  atlas.  Truly,  chance  was 
indeed  smiling  on  Jean  Mornas.  On  that  day, 
when  he  had  first  obtained  an  entrance  into  the 
house  in  Rue  Saint-Mederic,  it  was  fortune  that 
had  offered  itself  to  him.  Fortune — Jean  was 
well  aware  that  the  amount  Lucie  would  find 
would  not  be  sufficient  to  assure  him  what 


122 


HYPNOTIkSM. 


iniglit  be  called  fortune;”  but  between  liis 
present  wretchedness  and  the  dreams  he  in- 
dulged in  of  political  and  financial  glory — tlie 
amount,  whatever  it  might  be — would  certainly 
be  the  means  of  attaining  the  fortune  he  so 
eagerly  craved. 

And  as  he  walked  through  the  streets,  he 
made  projects,  combinations,  traced  out  plans 
by  which  he  could  double,  quadruple  the 
amount  he  did  not  yet  have — but  which  he 
would  soon  receive — and  taking  life  as  a game 
of  baccarat,  he  debated  within  himself  whether 
he  would  not  risk  some  of  this  money  on  the 
Bourse  the  very  next  day. 

But  no,  he  concluded,  it  were  better  to  keep 
this  money  as  a reserve.  He  would  wait  and 
see  later. , He  could  now  afford  to  wait  for  his 
chances  patiently.  While  he  w^ent  on  thus,  he 
was  examining  the  pedestrians  who  jostled 
against  him  in  the  crowded  street.  Business 
men  pushed  past  him,  hurrying  to  or  from  their 
offices.  Poor  wretches  were  sw^eeping  the 
snow  from  the  side-walks,  and  cleaning  the 


HYPNOTISM. 


123 


muddy  crossing  and  clioked-up  gutters.  All 
seemed  to  Mornas  as  mere  dupes,  bending  too 
willingly  to  the  imposed  task  of  daily  labor. 
All!  the  idiots!  To  struggle  thus,  when  it  is 
so  easy  to  escape  from  this  human  slavery  by 
right  of  skill  or  superior  strength ! 

Then  all  the  Darwinian  theories  of  ‘‘the 
struggle  for  existence  ” returned  to  Mornas 
under  a new  form.  What  was  he — the  indi- 
vidual— doing  but  applying  the  rule  followed 
by  nations,  proclaimed  by  conquerors,  sung 
by  the  poets  of  glory?  Success  to  the  more 
audacious,  conquest  to  the  more  intrepid! 
And  in  what  does  conquest — he  smiled  at  the 
word — take  anything  from  the  one  it  seems 
to  despoil?  He  had  already  asked  himself 
this  question  and  had  replied  victoriously — to 
his  way  of  thinking.  Butwhnt  flattered  him, 
what  appeared  original  and  personal  to  him, 
was  the  manner  in  which  he  dealt  wdtii  the 
problem  of  the  struggle  for  life, — by  delega- 
tion and  at  a distance,  and  in  such  a v/ay 
that  the  human  instrument  iie  employed 


124 


HYPNOTISM. 


had  not  even  consciousness  of  the  act  accom- 
plished. 

Then  Jean  pictured  to  himself  the  particulars 
of  the  drama  that  was  passing  at  Versailles — 
for  his  profit., 

“It  is  a quarter  to  two — Lucie  has  arrived 
at  the  station — Two  o’clock — She  is  in  Eue 
Saint-Mederic — Yes,  certainly — She  rings — 
The  door  is  opened — She  is  admitted — M.  de 
la  Berthiere  is  there — She  removes  the  vol- 
umes of  the  encyclopedia,  and  draws  forth  the 
atlas — She  searches  it  and  takes  what  it  con- 
tains— It  must  be  done  at  this  time — It  is 
done,  I shall  be  rich ! ” 

Not  a single  detail  of  the  scene  escaped  him. 
He  really  saw  her.  Everything  was  being 
accomplished  at  Versailles  as  he  had  com^ 
manded.  It  was  impossible  for  her  to  do 
otherwise.  Nevertheless,  as  the  hours  passed, 
a sort  of  fever  invaded  Mornas.  He  felt 
nervous  and  uneasy.  He  wanted  to  walk 
faster,  to  walk  continually,  as  if  the  activity  of 
his  body  w^ould  make  time  drag  less  heavily 


HYPNOTISM. 


125 


and  seem  shorter  to  him.  Then,  overcome  bj 
physical  and  moral  lassitude,  he  returned  home 
to  his  solitary  room,  where  he  sank  exhausted 
into  a chair.  There  was  evidently  nothing  to 
be  done  but  await  Lucie’s  coming. 

She  would  come.  She  would  certainly  be 
there  within  an  hour ! 

But  what  if  she  did  not  come! 

At  this  thought,  all  the  possible  obstacles, 
difSculties  and  dangers  of  an  enterprise  such 
as  he  had  planned  suddenly  flashed  upon  him. 
He  accused  himself  of  temerity,  of  absolute 
madness  even,  in  thus  tempting  fate.  Did  the 
state  of  submission  into  which  he  had  plunged 
the  young  girl  render  her  less  liable  to  arrest? 
She  was,  perhaps,  at  that  very  moment,  at  the 
police  station,  detained  there  under  an  accusa- 
tion of  robbery — This  idea  made  him  shudder 
and  augumented  his  nervous  fever.  Then  he 
tried  to  laugh  at  his  terrors,  accusing  himself 
of  pusillanimity ; and  taking  up  a volume  of 
Schopenhauer,  a favorite  of  his,  he  tried  to 
lead;  but  the  subtile  reasoning  seemed  piti« 
£ul  to  him  in  his  perilous  position 


126 


HYPNOTISM. 


Straining  his  ears,  he  listened  anxiously  to 
the  passing  footsteps  in  the  corridor.  She 
might  come  at  any  moment.  A few  minutes 
more  and  he  would  know  his  fate.  He  would 
be  rich ! rich ! 

He  began  to  fear  he  might  go  mad.  His 
ears  buzzed  as  on  those  nights  of  atrocious 
temptation.  The  blood  flowed  to  his  brain  with 
such  an  impetuous  rush  that  he  was  forced  to 
bathe  his  head  in  water  through  fear  of  con- 
gestion. 

Some  one  Anally  stopped  before  his  door,  and 
a hand  sought  the  bell-cord. 

He  turned  ghastly  pale,  and  for  an  instant 
his  heart  seemed  to  stop  its  beating.  But  at 
the  flrst  tinkle  of  the  bell  he  recovered  him- 
self, and,  rushing  to  the  door,  threw  it  open. 
Lucie  was  standing  on  the  threshold  and  en- 
tered without  uttering  a word,  in  a hurried 
manner  as  if  fearing  pursuit. 

She  walked  straight  to  the  little  table  on 
which  Jean’s  papers  were  scattered,  while  he 
quickly  closed  the  door  behind  her. 


HYPNOTISM. 


127 


Going  Tip  to  her,  he  then  fixed  his  eyes  in- 
tently on  her  face;  but  before  he  could  utter 
a word,  the  young  girl  threw  a pile  of  bank 
notes  upon  the  table  and  said,  in  a strangely 
firm  and  precise  tone: 

“ Here  it  is!” 

Jean  seized  the  pile  of  bills  and  gazed  at  it 
in  a sort  of  silent  rapture. 

Could  it  be  possible?  Was  it  not  an  illu- 
sion ? 

He  spread  them  out  before  him  and  began 
to  count  them;  while  Lucie,  upright  and  rigid 
as  he  had  seen  her  at  the  railway  station,  looked 
on  as  if  she  did  not  realize  what  was  passing 
about  her. 

“Thirty-seven!”  said  Mornas,  as  he  finished 
counting. 

Yes,  lying  there  before  him,  in  bills  of  one 
thousand,  of  fivo  hundred,  and  of  one  hundred  \ 
francs,  were  thirty-seven  thousand  francs.  The 
lever  which  would  raise  the  stone  of  fortune — 
Thirty-seven  thousand  francs!  Jean  counted 
them  again,  touched  them,  admired  them.  Then 
glancing  about  the  room  for  a place  to  hide 


128 


HYPNOTISM. 


his  treasure,  and  not  finding  any  that  seemed 
as  secure  as  his  breast,  he  thrust  the  bank 
notes  quickly  into  the  inside  pocket  of  his 
threadbare  coat  and  buttoned  it  tightly  about 
his  figure. 

The  pressure  of  the  package  against  his 
breast  sent  an  intoxicating  thrill  through  the 
young  man’s  entire  body.  It  was  like  a suit  of 
armor  that  would  enable  him  to  brave  every- 
thing for  the  future. 

Then,  turning  to  Lucie,  he  asked,  in  the  low, 
guarded  tone  of  an  accomplice  w^ho  does  not 
even  dare  enquire  all  the  details: 

“ — And — was  it  easily  done?” 

She  did  not  reply,  but  remained  motionless  in 
her  sculptural  rigidity,  her  haggard  eyes  seem- 
ingly set  in  a face  of  marble. 

“How  did  it  pass  off?”  asked  Jean,  after  a 
moment  of  silence. 

“I  do  not  know,”  replied  Lucie,  in  an  odd, 
vibrating  tone. 

The  accent  in  which  these  words  were  uttered 
was  so  strange  that  Jean  experienced  a sudden 
uneasiness^ 


HYPNOTISM. 


129 


“ But  you  can  certainly  tell  me  wliat  took 
place,”  lie  persisted;  “I  want  to  know — ” 

“ I was  pushed  on  by  some  unknown  force,” 
she  replied.  “ I went  on — I went  on — Why  did 
I go  on?  Because  I was  obliged  to — Yes! — ” 
and  she  seemed  still  to  be  struggling  against 
herself,  against  the  obsession — “I  was  obliged 
to — I,  went  there — I saw  the  man — I was  left 
alone  with  him.  I pushed  the  acoustic  tube  out 
of  reach  of  his  hands — ” 

“ He  could  not  see  you?  ” interrupted  Mor- 
nas  enquiringly.  “He  can  not  see?  He  is 
blind,  is  he  not?  ” 

“ Blind,  yes.  But  he  could  hear.” 

Lucie’s  voice  assumed  an  expression  of  alarm 
as  she  said  this;  and  without  knowing  vdiy, 
Mornas  guessed  some  peril. 

“He  could  hear?”  he  echoed. 

“Yes,”  she  assented,  in  the  same  impassible 
tone. 

“And  he  heard  you?”  persisted  Mornas, 
fixing  his  eyes  on  her  face. 


9 


130 


HYPNOTISM. 


“ Yes — while  I was  searching  the  oooks — 
and  then — ” 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  shook  her  head,  as 
if  to  drive  away  a bad  dream  or  vision. 

“ Then  ? ” repeated  Mornas,  tearing  the  words 
one  by  one  from  Lucie’s  lips. 

“ Then — listening,  he  guessed — yes,  guessed 
that  we  wanted  to  rob  him — He  uttered  a cry, 
and — ” 

“ The  servants  rushed  in?”  suggested  Jean. 

“ Ah! if  they  had  come!”  she  rejoined,  with 
a shudder.  “ But  no,  they  did  not  come,”  she 
went  on  vehemently.  “ He  sat  up  in  his  bed 
— Fear  and  anger  lent  him  strength — He 
dragged  himself  toward  me,  and  placed  his 
hand  on  my  shoulder — long,  bony  fingers  that 
clutched  me  like  piercing  claws — I had  taken 
the  bills,  for  I was  obliged  to  take  them— it 
was  stronger  than  myself — Something  impelled 
me  on,  for  he  had  stolen  them — had  he  not? — 
And  as  he  tried  to  snatch  them  from  me,  I — ” 

“ You  what?  ” heaskdU,  quivering  with  emo- 
tion. 


HYPNOTISM. 


131 


“ I pushed  him  from  me,  and  he  fell  to  the 
floor  beside  the  bed.  He  lay  there  stiff  and 
motionless,  and  then  I came  away!” 

“ Came  away?  ” repeated  Mornas.  “ How 


“ My  work  was  done,”  she  replied.  “ You 
told  me  to  take  the  money  he  had  stolen  away, 
and  to  bring  it  to  you.  It  is  done!  ” 

“ But,”  said  Mornas,  hesitating  a little, 
“what  of  him?  ” 

“ Of  whom  ? ” 

“ Of  M.  de  la  Berthiere?  ” 

“ I had  nothing  to  do  with  him,”  she  retorted 
quickly.  “ I was  to  go  there ; I was  to  do  that, 
and  I have  done  it — Adieu!  ” 

And  she  moved  toward  the  door  to  go  out. 
Jean  intercepted  her,  however;  and,  taking 
her  hand,  said  in  a gentle  tone: 

“Tell  me,  Lucie,  when  he — M.  de  la  Ber- 
thiere— fell,  did  he  call  again? — Did  he 
speak?  ” 

“ I don’t  know,”  she  replied. 

“ He  was  alive,  at  least?” 


132 


HYPNOTISM. 


“ I don’t  know.” 

“You  did  not  kill  him?” 

“ I don’t  know.” 

She  still  retained  that  same  tragic  immo- 
bility; and  now  Mornas  felt  a heavy  pressure 
on  his  chest,  as  if  the  bank  notes  were  stifling 
him. 

Lucie’s  eternal  replies  of  “ I don’t  know,  I 
don’t  know,”  filled  him  with  terrible  uneasiness. 
What  tragedy  had  taken  place  over  there,  the 
bare  recollection  of  which  had  not  even  re- 
mained on  this  brain  dominated  by  a fixed 
idea? 

He  made  several  attempts  to  bring  Lucie’s 
mind  back  to  the  scene  in  the  Kue  Saint-Med- 
eric,  to  induce  her  to  relate  all  that  had  hap- 
pened. But  the  young  girl  evaded  the  point 
and  persisted  in  her  unsatisfactory  reply  of  “I 
don’t  know!” 

“ I want  to  go,”  she  said  in  a short,  deter- 
mined tone.  “ Let  me  go,  at  once!  ” 

And  without  knowing  why,  he  instinctively 
tried  to  retain  her,  as  if  some  danger  throat- 


hypnotism:. 


133 


ened  her  outside  of  that  wretched  room. 
Where  would  she  go?  To  her  home  at  Mont- 
martre, no  doubt.  She  was  eager  to  be  alone. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  she  wanted  to  be  alone 
to  weep.  Her  whole  nervous  system  was  so 
terribly  overwrought  and  distended  that  he 
feared  she  was  on  the  point  of  breaking  down, 
and  that  a paroxysm  of  tears  was  the  only 
thing  that  could  soothe  her. 

“I  will  not  let  you  go,  Lucie!”  he  said, 
trying  to  retain  her. 

“But  I must  go,  I must!”  she  replied,  her 
delicate  little  hand  pushing  him  back  with 
strange  nervous  strength.” 

“What  will  you  do  at  Montmartre?”  he 
asked. 

“ Nothing,  I want  to  be  alone,”  she  said, 
listlessly.  Then  as  if  suddenly  conscious  of 
what  she  had  done  and  stricken  by  remorse, 
she  added  brokenly:  “ I want  to  weep!  ” 

Jean  allowed  her  to  go,  thinking  he  would 
see  her  the  next  day.  Yes,  he  would  go  to 
see  her  to-morrow ; and  slipping  his  arm 


134 


HYPNOTISM. 


about  lier  waist,  lie  tried  to  bring  liis  lips  to 
the  young  girl’s  forehead;  but  she  repulsed 
him  and  looked  at  him  with  a sort  of  hatred  in 
her  usually  gentle  eyes. 

He  opened  the  window  to  see  her  again  in 
the  street.  She  stalked  on  with  the  same 
automatic  step  of  the  morning,  until  he  lost 
sight  of  her  at  the  corner. 

‘ Bah!”  thought  Mornas,  “she  will  obey 
the  order  prohibiting  her  from  talking,  as  she 
did  the  suggestion  commanding  her  to  act!” 

Then  taking  out  the  package  of  bank-notes, 
he  counted  it  over  several  times,  with  the  sat- 
isfaction of  a miser. 

“ Come  what  may,”  he  muttered,  “ this  is 
the  beginning  of  my  fortune.  And  living  or 
dead,  I may  thank  the  mandarin  for  it — ” 


HYPNOTISM. 


135 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

Jean,  however,  passed  a bad  night  after  that 
evening  of  triumph.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
he  had  been  dragged  by  men  in  Chinese  cos- 
tume into  a room  where  he  saw  the  corpse  of 
a murdered  man  who  bore  a terrible  resem- 
blance to  M.  de  la  Berthiere,  and  on  the  chim- 
ney was  a marble  statuette,  a living  portrait  of 
Lucie,  wdiich  gazed  at  him  with  large,  haggard 
eyes.  This  distressing  dream  pursued  him 
until  day-break;  and  he  arose  in  the  morning, 
restless  and  his  body  racked  with  pain,  as  if 
suffering  from  an  attack  of  rheumatism. 

So  greatly  agitated  was  he  by  the  uneasy 
night  he  had  spent,  that  his  first  impulse  was 
to  go  to  Versailles  and  ascertain  what  had 
passed  in  the  Eue  Saint-Mederic.  But  he 
quickly  realized  that  this  idea  was  too  impru- 
dent. It  w^ould  certainly  be  better  to  wait. 


136 


HYPISOTISM. 


Besides,  Lucie  miglit  perhaps  be  able  to  tell 
him  all  to-day — But  Jean  stopped  short  at  this 
point.  No,  no,  he  must  never  again  allude  to 
this  drama  before  Lucie.  He  must  leave  her 
a prey  to  that  vague  recollection  which  would, 
little  by  little,  become  obliterated  in  her  mind. 
Yes,  the  fixed  idea  imposed  on  her  by  the  sug- 
gestion would  certainly  lose  its  precision  as 
time  passed  and  would  soon  assume  the  ap- 
pearance of  a confused  nightmare.  The  lux- 
ury and  the  life  of  ease  he  would  share  with 
the  poor  child  would  make  her  forget  this  ter- 
rible adventure.  And  then — they  would  be 
happy  together. 

He  really  loved  Lucie.  And  with  the  super- 
stition ol  a skeptic,  his  love  for  her  seemed  to 
have  grown  since  she  had  served  as  an  instru- 
ment of  fortune  to  him.  He  was  anxious  to 
see  her  again.  He  wanted  to  propose  to  her 
— not  to  fly — but  to  spend  a few  days  with  him 
at  his  home  in  the  South.  He  would  present 
her  to  h*s  parents,  who  would  be  so  happy  to 
learn  that  he  had  at  last  decided  to  marry. 


HYPNOTISM. 


137 


He  imagined  his  mother’s  joyous  tears  and 
Lucie’s  happy  smile — and  all  this  appeared  to 
him  in  a frame  of  warm  light,  in  a haze  of 
golden  sunshine. 

“A  pastoral  poem!”  he  exclaimed,  with  a 
sarcastic  laugh.  “ Upon  my  word,  Mornas, 
you  are  becoming  sentimental  1 ” 

But  this  very  sentimentalism  at  which  he 
sneered  was  still  another  of  the  satisfactions 
he  had  planned.  A hal  before  the  battle, 
with  Lucie’s  kisses — when  she  had  become  his 
wife — to  give  him  courage.  And  then  to  the 
breach — boldly ! 

After  breakfasting  at  a neighboring  res- 
taurant, Jean  set  off  for  Montmartre.  The 
mist  had  now  almost  entirely  disappeared,  and 
the  sun  was  beginning  to  melt  the  patches  of 
snow  on  the  walks.  The  young  man  inhaled 
the  bracing  air  in  long  draughts  as  he  strode 
on  with  a light  step,  and  a clarion  of  victory 
seemed  to  sing  in  his  ears.  When  he  reached 
Kue  Audrain  he  was  surprised  to  see  a crowd 
of  neighbors  and  people  of  the  quarter  grouped 


138 


hypnotism:. 


in  front  of  tlie  iionse  wiiere  Lucie  resided.  A 
low  niunnur  of  comments  and  ribald  jests 
arose  from  this  crowd  of  men  and  women ; and 
as  Mornas  drew  nearer,  an  instinctive  dread 
of  some  impending  peril  suddenly  assailed 
him. 

As  he  approached  still  closer  to  this  throng 
of  jabbering  humanity,  his  face  became  death- 
ly pale  and  his  heart  almost  ceased  to  beat. 
Lucie’s  name  was  on  every  one’s  tongue.  With 
the  rapidity  of  a flash  of  lightning,  the  truth 
flashed  upon  him — Lucie  had  been  ai rested. 

Arrested! — What  had  happened  at  Ver- 
sailles ? How  had  it  been  discovered  ? — And 
Jean  strained  his  ears,  seizing  eagerly  from 
the  confused  babblings  of  the  people  around 
him  snatches  of  explanations  and  shreds  of 
tlie  truth.  There  could  be  no  further  doubt. 
Lucie  had  been  recognized  and  followed.  She 
had  left  some  clew  at  Versailles;  and  the  po- 
lice of  Paris  had  been  notified  by  telegraph — 
But  of  what  crime  was  the  young  girl  accused  ? 
— Jean  could  not  succeed  in  learning  exactly; 


HYPNOTISM. 


130 


with  his  hand  to  his  face  and  the  collar  of  his 
overcoat  turned  up  about  his  ears,  through 
fear  of  being  recognized  by  some  neighbor 
who  might  have  remarked  his  visits  to  Lucie, 
he  awaited  to  discover,  by  some  definite  state- 
ment, what  she — and  himself — had  to  fear. 

As  he  stood  thus,  in  the  midst  of  the  noisy 
throng,  he  heard  Lucie  accused  of  robbery,  of 
purloining  securities,  and  of  many  other  crimes. 
One  stout  woman,  eager  to  give  herself  impor- 
tance, shook  her  head  significantly  and  spoke 
of  infanticide.  As  she  did  so,  she  raised  her 
fat  hand  from  which  dangled  a little  charm. 
Mornas  was  tempted  to  seize  her  by  the  wrist 
and  cry  out  that  she  lied.  This  charm  reminded 
him  of  the  one  he  had  seen  Lucie  gazing  upon 
the  first  time  he  had  met  her ! Charm,  indeed ! 
— What  an  ironical  name — Poor  girl!  And 
almost  forgetting  that  it  was  he  who  had 
thrown  her  in  the  way  of  these  accusations,  he 
began  to  lament  over  her  misfortune  and  ask 
himself  what  he  would  do  in  her  defense. 

He  returned  home  with  his  brain  racked  by 


140 


HYPNOTISM. 


conflictiDg  thoughts.  Should  he  fly?  Was  he 
not  directly  menaced  by  this  accusation  against 
Lucie  ? What  must  he  do  ? 

Flight  would  bring  suspicion  upon  him,  and 
assure  pursuit.  And,  besides,  in  her  present 
state,  when  so  absolutely  under  the  sway  of  an 
exterior  thought,  Lucie  would  not  speak.  No, 
certainly  not,  she  would  not  speak! 

Then,  what  had  he  to  fear  ? — 

He  feared  nothing;  and  his  powers  of  re- 
sistance and  audacity  abruptly  returned  to  him 
at  the  prospect  of  a possible  danger.  Only  his 
heart  had  been  pierced  by  this  collapse,  so 
sudden,  so  dramatic,  so  brutal,  so — 

“ Some  would  say  providential,”  he  mur- 
mured, with  a wicked  laugh. 

This  unexpected  result,  this  combination 
which  had  ended  in  a murder,  was  indeed  terri- 
fying. It  had  surpassed  his  wish  in  a fright- 
ful manner.  He  had  planned  to  go  as  far  as 
robbery;  and  the  logic  of  the  suggestion  had 
driven  him  to  that  point,  to  assassination  per- 
haps. He  had  unchained  an  instinct,  a force. 


HYPNOTISM. 


141 


and,  as  a bullet  goes  straight  to  its  destination, 
Lucie  liad  accomplished  the  order  suggested — 
but  how? — Nothing,  nothing  in  the  world 
could  have  prevented  her  from  obeying!  Mor- 
nas  resembled  a man  who,  having  plunged  his 
hands  into  the  water  to  bring  out  gold,  would 
find  he  had  brought  up  the  remains  of  a corpse. 
But  how  had  the  poor  unfortunate  girl’s  name 
and  address  been  learned?  And  of  what  crime 
was  she  accused?  M.  de  la  Berthiere  must 
then  have  been  able  to  tell — 

At  the  old  man’s  name,  Mornas’  very  thoughts 
seemed  to  hesitate.  He  almost  wished  that  M. 
de  la  Berthiere  had  been  able  to  tell.  But  a 
secret  terror  came  over  him  at  the  thought  of 
such  a possibility — and  what^if  he  were  dead? 

“You  wanted  ta  kill  the  mandarin !”  he 
laughed  bitterly — “ And  he  may  have  been 
killed!” 

He  shuddered  at  the  possibility  of  such  a 
catastrophe,  and  a terrible  uneasiness  concern- 
ing Lucie  took  possession  of  him. 

He  awaited  the  coming  of  the  evening  news- 


142 


HYPNOTISM. 


papers  with  feverish  anxiety,  hoping  the  details 
of  the  arrest  and  accusation  might  be  given. 
But  no,  the  Parisian  reporters  were  yet  in  ig- 
norance of  the  tragedy.  Taking  an  evening 
train,  Jean  went  to  Versailles,  and  there 
found  that  the  old  man’s  death  was  the  sole 
topic  of  conversation.  Boldly  accosting  the 
first  cab-driver  he  met,  he  asked  the  particu- 
lars of  the  “ tragedy  of  the  Rue  Saint-Mederic 
and  it  was  with  a sensation,  as  of  a chill  creep- 
ing up  his  back,  that  he  listened  to  the  answer: 
M.  de  la  Berthiere — an  old  miser — and  a ras- 
cal as  well — had  been  killed  by  a woman.  ‘‘  Like 
Marat  by  Charlotte  Corday,”  added  the  cab- 
driver,  “ only  that  in  this  case  the  knife 
was  a letter.” 

Yes,  M.  de  la  Berthiere  had  been  thrown 
brutally  against  a piece  of  furniture.  The 
old  paralytic’s  forehead  had  struck  against 
the  sharp  corner  of  the  book-case,  and  the 
blow  on  the  temple  had  finished  him.  Such  was 
the  account  of  the  affair  given  by  the  man. 

As  to  the  manner  in  which  she  had  been 


HYPNOTISM. 


143 


traced,  it  was  simple  enougli.  The  woman  was 
not  a resident  of  Versailles,  but  a Parisienne  it 
appeared;  some  even  declared  her  to  be  a 
former  mistress,  or  an  illegitimate  daughter  of 
M.  de  la  Berthiere.  One  of  the  gatemen  at 
the  railway  station  had  remarked  the  strange 
manners  of  a young  girl  who  had  paced  up  and 
down  the  waiting-room,  with  eyes  so  fixed  in 
their  immovable  expression  that  they  seemed 
of  glass.  When  asked  for  her  ticket  she  had 
drawn  it  out  of  a small  satchel,  letting  fall 
some  papers  as  she  did  so.  The  guard  had 
quickly  picked  up  the  papers  and  given  them 
to  her  as  she  passed  on  to  the  train,  which  was 
on  the  point  of  departure.  Happening  to 
glance  at  the  floor  a moment  later,  however,  he 
had  perceived  a letter  which  had  been  over- 
looked ; but  as  the  train  was  already  in  motion, 
he  had  placed  it  aside  to  return  when  called  for. ! 
This  letter  was  from  the  proprietor  of  a large 
shop  in  Paris,  and  was  addressed  to  Mademoi- 
selle Lucie  Lorin,  rue  Audran,  a Montmartre. 
As  soon  as  M.  de  la  Berthiere’ s death  had 


144 


HYPNOTISM. 


been  reported  to  tbe  police  by  his  servants, 
officers  had  been  dispatched  to  the  stations  to 
watch  for  the  guilty  person.  On  questioning 
the  gateman  already  mentioned,  he  had  related 
the  singular  impression  produced  on  him  by 
the,  girl,  and  handed  the  letter  and  envelope 
to  the  officers.  His  description  of  the  young 
woman’s  manners  and  dress  tallied  so  precisely 
with  that  given  by  the  servants  of  the  murdered 
man’s  visitor  that  the  chief  of  police  at  Ver- 
sailles had  immediately  telegraphed  the  Paris- 
ian police  to  arrest  a woman,  or  young  girl, 
known  as  Lucie  Lorin.  “ And  this  ” con- 
cluded the  cabby,  ‘‘  is  how  Versailles  obtained 
the  good  fortune  of  being  the  scene  of  a trag- 
edy, which  will  make  a sensation  and  bring 
plenty  of  work  to  cab-drivers;  for  hundreds  of 
people  will  come  to  see  the  house  in  which  the 
murder  was  committed.” 

Mornas  had  heard  enough.  One  idea  alone 
surged  above  all  others  in  his  mind;  he  must 
return  to  Paris  without  delay.  Impelled  by 
that  morbid  magnetism  which  the  scene  of  the 


HYPNOTISM. 


115 


crime  possesses  for  the  criminal,  however,  he 
went  toward  the  house  in  which  Lucie  had 
perpetrated  the  deed.  A crowd  of  curiosity 
seekers  had  gathered  in  front  of  the  dismal 
place,  and  this  silent  corner  of  the  dead  city 
had  suddenly  become  animated  by  the  presence 
of  a throng  of  morbid  people.  Standing  on 
the  walk  directly  opposite  the  little  door  he 
had  so  often  entered,  Mornas  kept  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  wall,  which  he  in  a manner  pierced 
with  his  thoughts,  picturing  to  himself  the 
old  man  lying  there,  motionless  on  the  low  bed 
in  the  study — The  mandarin  was  dead! 
He  was  sleeping  his  last  sleep!  And  strange 
to  say,  Jean  experienced  no  remorse.  Neither 
remorse  nor  fear.  He  was  saying  to  himself 
that  an  accused  person  was  not  a condemned 
criminal;  that  in  spite  of  the  overwhelming 
evidence  against  her,  Lucie  would  easily  prove 
her  innocence,  escape  from  the  accusation — 
by  some  means  or  other — and  that  a new  life 
would  open  to  them. 

But  when  he  found  himself  alone  in  the 

10 


14G 


HYPNOTISM. 


railway  carriage  on  liis  way  back  to  Paris  and 
brought  himself  face  to  face  with  the  new 
state  of  afPairs,  he  began  to  feel  the  agony  of 
intense  fears  invading  him.  She  might  escape 
from  the  accusation ! But  how  ? The  crime 
was  a heinous  one,  and  Lucie  had  almost  been 
caught  in  the  act,  so  swiftly  and  surely  had 
justice  followed  her  after  the  commission. 
Though  he  gradually  came  to  a full  realiza- 
tion of  the  terrors  of  the  young  girl’s  position, 
he  experienced  no  more  remorse  than  he  had 
felt  when  near  the  scene  of  the  tragedy;  but  a 
sensation  of  genuine  alarm  seized  him,  how- 
ever, the  violence  of  which  augmented  in  pro- 
portion as  he  neared  Paris.  The  entrance 
into  the  city  through  the  breach  of  the  fortifi- 
cations, produced  the  effect  of  the  opening  of  a 
mouse-trap  on  him. 

As  he  descended  from  the  train,  it  seemed 
to  him  that  the  station  was  crowded  with  po- 
lice officers,  watching  the  arrivals  to  seize  the 
guilty  persons.  It  was  an  illusion,  no  doubt; 
for  who  could  suspect  that  Lucy  Lorin  had  an 


HYPNOTISM. 


147 


accomplice?  And  as  he  walked  on  toward 
Eue  Racine,  he  reasoned  the  matter  in  a scien- 
tific and  decisive  manner.  Being  entirely  un- 
conscious of  the  act  she  had  committed,  the 
young  girl  would  remain  as  impassible  be- 
fore all  questionings  as  she  had  been  in  the  ac- 
complishment of  the  orders  dictated  to  her. 
She  would  never  divulge  the  secret  of  the 
crime  of  which  she  had  been  quilty  without 
having  had  a clear  perception  of  it.  She 
would  remain  a living  enigma  to  Science, 
which  would  examine  her,  and  Law,  which 
would  interrogate  her.  The  idea  of  silence 
was  implanted  in  her  mind;  she  would  not 
speak ; she  would  not  divulge  any  name,  any 
secret.  Mornas  had  therefore  nothing  to  fear. 
And  the  very  state  into  which  Lucie  had  been 
plunged  would  cause  the  judges  to  hesitate  and 
save  the  accused.  Yes,  that  was  precisely  the 
point.  Lucie’s  safety  was  in  that  very  sugges- 
tion, in  that  submission  of  her  will  to  that 
of  another — another  whom  she  would  never 
designate. 


148 


HYPNOTISM. 


Notwithstanding  these  logical  deductions 
he  had  a certain  apprehension  at  crossing  the 
threshold  of  his  home,  as  if  he  feared  to  find 
some  one  waiting  for  him  there.  He  experi- 
enced that  uneasy  sensation  of  being  followed 
by  somebody.  As  he  was  turning  into  Rue 
Racine,  an  odd  shadow  appeared  before  him ; 
and  he  turned  abruptly,  almost  feeling  that 
sort  of  contact  produced  by  a hand  being  laid 
on  his  shoulder.  But  he  was  alone.  It  was 
merely  his  own  shadow,  which  stretched  out 
before  him  and  which  he  had  not  recognized. 

In  his  room,  the  door  of  which  he  locked 
carefully  behind  him,  he  experienced  a moment 
of  calmness.  For  the  hundredth  time,  he  count- 
ed over  the  package  of  bank-notes  which  were  to 
raise  him  above  the  wretchedness  of  his 
former  existence.  Then  a new  terror  overcame 
him.  Going  hastily  to  the  window,  he  pulled 
the  heavy  curtains  together  and  fixed  them 
securely. 

If  he  were  watched  from  across  the  street? 
If  some  one  were  watching  him  ? If  he  were 
robbed  ? 


HYPNOTISM. 


149 


“Eobme!”ii0  repeated  aloud.  “Ah!  in- 
deed!” 

And  in  spite  of  his  fright,  he  was  almost  in- 
clined to  laugh  at  the  thought  that  he  had  sud- 
denly become  one  of  those  whom  it  was  right 
to  rob — a mandarin,  like  the  dead  man. 

Then  he  asked  himself  if  it  were  not  better 
to  hide  the  bank-notes  or  trust  them  to  the 
care  of  some  faithful  friend — But  to  whom? 
At  this  point  of  his  meditations  he  came  to  a 
sudden  stop.  Then  the  image  of  his  parents 
rose  before  him.  The  poor  old  people  would 
be  so  happy  to  learn  that  their  Jean  had  found, 
or  earned  a fortune,  and  would  gladly  keep  it 
for  him;  considering  this  deposit  from  their 
son  as  a sacred  trust.  But  through  an  odd 
scruple  not  unfrequently  found  in  somber  souls, 
the  idea  of  associating  these  poor  people  with 
his  crime  seemed  more  hideous  than  the  crime 
itself.  No,  decidedly,  he  had  no  choice;  he 
must  keep  his  treasure  with  him.  He  would 
carry  it  on  his  breast,  where  he  could  feel  its 
pleasing  touch  on  his  skin,  and  would  defend 
it  with  his  life. 


160 


HYPNOTISM, 


CHAPTEE  X. 

The  morning  following  her  arrest,  Lucie 
Lorin  was  brought  before  the  physician  whose 
duty  it  was  to  examine  delicate  or  sick  prisoners 
detained  at  the  Prefecture,  Since  her  incar- 
ceration, the  young  girl  had  touched  no  food 
and  had  positively  refused  to  reply  to  the  ques- 
tions addressed  her  by  the  magistrate  at  the 
preliminary  examination. 

In  the  bare  little  room  adjoining  the  in- 
firmary into  which  she  was  led,  she  found  a tall 
powerful  man,  with  kind  benevolent  eyes, 
seated  near  the  window  beside  a small  table 
littered  with  numberless  bundles  of  papers 
with  official  headings.  As  the  young  girl  ad- 
vanced, she  glanced  curiously  at  the  physician, 
while  the  latter  gazed  at  her  with  an  expres- 
sion of  evident  astonishment.  Men  of  science 
have  singular  intuitions ; and  daily  contact  with 


HYPNOTISM. 


151 


SO  many  moral  and  physical  ailments  had  given 
the  eminent  physician  a deep  insight  into  the 
griefs  that  afflict  the  human  species.  For  a 
moment  he  remained  silent,  watching  the  face 
before  him  attentively,  intuitively  recognizing 
a living  problem  in  the  delicate,  gentle 
nature. 

Attired  in  her  simple  black  dress,  and  stand- 
ing between  a warden  and  one  of  tbe  female 
attendants  at  the  infirmary,  Lucie  remained 
motionless  and  rigid ; her  calm  blue  eyes  en- 
countering the  physician’s  gaze  without  flinch- 
ing. There  was  a mixture  of  frankness  and 
strange  resolution  in  the  young  girl’s  spark- 
ling pupils.  The  doctor  at  once  suspected  a 
mystery.  This  frail  creature,  so  sympathetic 
of  aspect,  so  timid,  accused  of  a crime!  This 
little  hand  capable  of  giving  a death-blow  to  a 
man!  The  savant  was  surprised,  to  say  the 
least. 

“ Ah!  this  is  something  interesting,  very  in- 
teresting,” he  murmured,  as  he  gently  ca- 
ressed his  chin  with  his  thumb  and  fore-finger. 


152 


HYPNOTISM. 


Then  he  began  to  question  her. 

And  Lucie,  who  had  been  almost  dumb  until 
then,  answered  him  freely.  Under  his  gaze, 
she  felt  herself  enveloped  in  a sort  of  pity 
which  moved  her.  When  before  the  magis- 
trate on  the  previous  day,  she  had  refused  to 
say  anything.  Now  she  spoke  without  re- 
serve. 

“ Is  it  true,  is  it  possible  that  you  can  have 
committed  the  crime  of  which  you  are  ac- 
cused?” asked  the  physician — ^‘You  must 
then  have  been  familiar  with  M.  de  la  Ber- 
thiere’s  habits  and  his  surroundings?” 

‘‘  No,”  replied  Lucie.  “ I had  no  previous 
knowledge  of  either.” 

‘‘  This  was  the  first  time  you  visited  his 
house?” 

“Yes,  the  first  and  only  time.” 

“ But  why  did  you  go  there?  ” 

“Why?”  she  echoed,  her  half  frightened 
eyes  fixing  themselves  on  her  questioner’s  face. 
“Why?”  she  repeated.  “Because  I was 
obliged  to  do  so!  ” 


HYPNOTISM. 


153 


“What do  you  mean?  You  were  obliged  to 
do  so?  ” 

“Yes,”  repeated  the  young  girl,  in  a sharp 
tone.  “ I was  obliged  to  do  so!  ” 

The  physician  gazed  silently  at  Lucie,  who 
still  retained  her  rigidity  and  impassibility, 
while  the  warden  and  female  attendant  ex- 
changed a meaning,  distrustful  glance  behind 
the  poor  girl’s  blonde  head,  plainly  expressing 
their  suspicions  of  such  naivety  and  inno- 
cence. 

“Have  you  frequently  been  ill?  ” asked  the 
physician,  after  a short  pause. 

“ I?  ” she  asked. 

“ Yes;  through  what  severe  illnesses  have 
you  suffered  ? — Typhoid  fever  ? ” 

“Yes,  I have  had  typhoid  fever,”  she  re- 
turned. 

“ How  old  were  you  then?” 

“ Twelve  years  of  age.” 

The  physician  made  a note  of  her  answers  on 
the  sheet  of  paper  lying  before  him,  then  re- 
sumed his  inquiry. 


164 


HYPNOTISM. 


“Your  parents  are  not  living?”  he  pur- 
sued. 

“ No,”  replied  the  girl,  sadly. 

“ Did  you  ever  hear  them  say  that  you  had 
convulsions  during  your  infancy?” 

For  a moment  Lucie’s  blue  eyes  seemed  to 
search  the  past,  then  she  replied  unhesitat- 
ingly: 

“No,  Monsieur — Mother — ” her  bosom 
heaved,  and  even  the  physician  was  impressed 
by  the  gentle  and  sorrowful  tone  in  which  she 
pronounced  this  name — “ Mother  never  spoke 
of  that.  She  merely  said  that  I was  weak — 
very  weak,  and  that  she  feared  to  see  me  go 
before  herself — I would  much  have  preferred 
it  so—” 

Two  big  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks  as  she 
spoke;  but  quickly  brushing  them  away,  she 
resumed  her  motionless  attitude,  and  stood 
before  her  questioner  like  an  enigma  in  flesh 
and  blood. 

“ I am  not  a magistrate,  and  have  not  the 
right  to  question  you  like  a Judge  of  Instruc- 


HYPNOTISM. 


155 


tion,”  resumed  the  doctor,  gently.  “But, 
come,  was  it  really  you  who  killed  M.  de  la 
Berthiere?  ” 

“Killed  him,”  repeated  Lucie  in  a savage 
tone,  while  her  eyebrows  contracted  harshly. 

“ I did  not  want  to  kill  him,”  she  went  on. 
“I  did  not  even  want  to  harm  him.  I simply 
wanted  to  keep  him  from  preventing  me  from 
accomplishing  what  must  be  done.”« 

“ What  must  be  done!  ” exclaimed  the  phy- 
sician. “ And  what  were  you  obliged  to  do  in 
M.  de  la  Berthiere’s  house  ? ” 

“That  is  my  secret!  ” said  Lucie  in  a curt 
tone. 

“ Beware,  my  poor  girl,”  protested  the  doc- 
tor, in  a warning  voice.  “Justice  will  demand 
an  explanation  of  this  secret!” 

“Justice  will  learn  nothing  from  me!”  she 
retorted,  doggedly,  “I  will  not  speak!  ” 

“ But — allow  me  to  warn  you — if  you  per- 
sist in  this  silence,  you  are  lost — absolutely 
lost!” 


“Lost!”  she  echoed. 


156 


HYPNOTISM, 


“Remember  that  your  crime  is  a heinous 
one!” 

“I  had  no  desire  to  commit  crime — I did 
not  want  to — What  I did,  I was  obliged  to 
do!” 

“You  were  obliged  to!”  he  repeated, 
“obliged  to!  — ” 

“Yes,”  she  interrupted,  shortly,  “I  was 
obliged  to!  ” 

“ This  was  the  answer  she  had  given  Mornas 
the  night  he  had  so  impatiently  awaited  her 
return  from  Versailles,  and  it  was  now  her  ob- 
stinate reply  to  all  the  physician’s  pressing 
questions.  She  was  evidently  determined  to 
say  no  more  concerning  the  crime  committed ; 
and  the  puzzled  physician  thoughtfully 
scratched  his  head  with  the  tip  of  the  wooden 
pen-holder  he  held  suspended  over  the  sheet  of 
paper  before  him  ; powerless  to  write  out  the 
report  he  had  intended  to  draw  up. 

He  was  much  bewildered  and  embarrassed. 
He  realized  that  there  existed  some  ailment  in 
the  delicate  creature  standing  before  him;  and 


HYPNOTISM. 


157 


yet  he  saw  little  to  warrant  a supposition  of 
mental  disorder.  The  young  girl  was  neither 
demented  nor  subject  to  convulsions.  Though 
weak-minded,  perhaps,  she  nevertheless  re- 
plied to  all  his  questions  with  clearness  and 
lucidity;  and  the  obstinacy  of  a human  being 
in  refusing  to  explain  her  conduct  could  cer- 
tainly not  be  called  madness.  To  the  physi- 
cian habituated  to  the  sinister  scenes  of  every- 
day life  presented  at  police  headquarters,  to 
the  student  of  cerebral  enigmas  placed  as  he 
was  at  the  mouth  of  an  immense  moral  catch 
basin,  this  unknown  quantity  to  be  extracted 
from  a living  problem,  Avhich  he  had  vainly 
tried  to  solve,  possessed  a peculiar  fascination. 

“ I was  obliged  to  do  so!  ” This  was  not  the 
reason  usually  given  by  criminals  caught  red- 
handed.  Some  denied,  while  others  explained 
their  atrocity  by  some  moral  or  external  cause 
— anger  or  alcohol.  The  girl,  however,  clupg 
to  this  phrase  with  a morbid  obstinacy  that  de- 
noted mental  unsoundness.  “ Did  M.  de  la 
Berthiere  know  you  ? ” he  persisted.  She  shook 


158 


HYPNOTISM. 


her  head  in  silence.  ‘‘Had  you  any  motive  of 
revenge?” — “ No!” — “Why  then  did  you  go 
to  his  house?  Why  did  you  push  him  from 
you  so  violently  that  his  fall  should  cause 
death  ? ” Still  the  same  words,  the  same  phrase, 
repeated  with  a sort  of  maniacal  fury  came 
from  her  lips:  “ I was  obliged  to  do  so!  ” 
Evidently  this  girl’s  mind  was  undergoing, 
or  had  undergone,  some  severe  shock.  By 
making  inquiries  into  her  past  life,  an  explana- 
tion of  her  strange  conduct  would  perhaps  bo 
found.  The  physician  therefore  asked  her  for 
the  name  of  the  doctor  who  had  attended  her 
during  childhood. 

“ The  physician?  ” she  queried. 

“ Yes.  You  must  remember  his  name  ? ” 

“ Oh!  certainly.” 

“ What  was  it?  ” 

“ M.  Pomeroy.” 

“ Pomeroy ! ” said  the  doctor.  “ I know  him 
very  intimately.  And  he  is  the  best  man  liv- 
ing.” 

He  ordered  that  Lucie  ba  taken  back  to 


HYPNOTISM. 


159 


the  infirmary,  and,  before  giving  an  opinion 
on  the  young  girl’s  mental  state,  requested  a 
delay  from  the  magistrate  that  he  might  con- 
sult iiis  confrere  Pomeroy. 

Good-hearted  Pomeroy ! He  had  voluntarily 
remained  in  the  shadow.  The  minor  cares  of 
every-day  life,  more  difiicult  of  accomplishment 
than  greater  duties,  had  kept  him  in  obscurity, 
while  his  old  comrade  at  the  hospital  was  be- 
coming one  of  the  lights  of  his  profession  and 
a glory  to  his  country.  The  physician  at  the 
Prefecture  had  a great  regard  for  honest,  re- 
tiring Pomeroy,  who  avoided  all  occasions  of 
notoriety  with  as  much  zeal  as  others  displayed 
in  seeking  them.  Had  he  wished  it,  Pomeroy 
might  to-day  be  member  of  the  Academy,  offi- 
cer of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  celebrated,  rich! — 
Bah ! Pomeroy  was  a sort  of  prince  of  science 
who  did  not  care  to  reign.  He  had  abdicated 
his  principality  to  live  as  he  pleased;  a life 
without  turmoil,  between  his  old  books  and  his 
poor  patients.  He  maintained  that  fame  must 
be  dearly  bought,  and  that  honors  cost  too 
much.  Perhaps  he  was  right. 


160 


HYPNOTISMo 


Doctor  Pomeroy  was  almost  stupefied  when 
his  old  friend  informed  him  that  justice  de- 
sired his  testimony  concerning  a young  girl 
called  Lucie  Lorin,  whom  he  had  formerly 
treated,  Lucie! — the  good  man  had  always 
felt  a paternal  weakness  for  this  child,  whom 
he  had  saved  from  croup  and  typhoid  fever. 
He  had  always  felt  a sincere  affection  for  these 
poor  people;  and  amongst  all  his  patients — who 
never  paid  him — Mme.  Lorin  had  been  one  of 
the  preferred  ones.  The  good  woman  had 
seemed  so  admirable  to  him,  and  the  little  girl 
so  charming!  They  bore  the  fatigues  of  their 
laborious  life  so  courageously.  And,  besides, 
really — yes — he  had  saved  Lucie.  Had  it  not 
been  for  him,  who  could  tell  what  might  have 
happened?  And  he  had  become  attached  to 
iher  like  the  artist  to  his  work:  the  life-giving 
! work  which  raises  the  physician  to  the  level  of 
a creature  next  to  the  creator. 

But  the  child  had  now  grown  up  to  woman- 
hood; and  for  a longtime — since  Mme.  Lorin’s 
death,  in  fact,  the  kind  old  doctor  had  ceased  to 


HYPNOTISM. 


IGl 


follow  her  movements  and  had  almost  lost  sight 
of  her.  Provided  the  young  girl  turned  out 
well,  as  we  commonly  express  it, — ‘‘  That  is  to 
say,  if  her  head  is  not  turned!”  he  thought, 
“ all  would  be  well.”  Notwithstanding  his 
recent  encounter  with  Lucie,  he  was  almost  en- 
tirely ignorant  of  her  mode  of  life  and  knew 
nothing  of  her  relations  with  Mornas,  whom  he 
knew  slightly  and  had  seen  following  the 
mother’s  coffin  to  the  cemetery.  He  was,  there- 
fore, absolutely  unaware  of  the  romantic  idyl 
which  had  so  suddenly  terminated  in  a crime. 

When  told  that  Lucie,  pretty  little  Lucie, 
was  under  arrest  at  the  Prefecture  de  police^ 
charged  with  a terrible  crime,  the  good  old 
man’s  pale  face  flushed  violently  with  sudden 
indignation. 

“Such  a thing  is  impossible!”  he  cried, 
vehemently,  the  blood  rushing  to  his  head  from 
the  shock  of  his  overhelming  emotion.  “ Im- 
possible! impossible!  ” he  repeated.  “Ah!  if 
it  were  true,  it  would  be  a rude  shock  to  my 
optimism,”  and  the  philanthropic  old  man  shook 


HYPNOTISM. 


liis  head  sadly.  Such  a gentle  child! — Such 
an  ideal  head!  ” he  murmured — “ What  can  it 
mean  ? ” 

He  paused  for  a moment,  then  added,  ab- 
ruptly: 

“ Bah!  it  means  nothing  at  all — It  is  impos- 
sible, simply  impossible!” 

The  poor  doctor  ate  no  breakfast  that  morn- 
ing, and  seriously  alarmed  his  house-keeper  by 
rushing  out  bare-headed  to  keep  his  appoint- 
ment at  the  Prefecture,  He  had  reached  the 
street,  in  fact,  before  the  woman’s  loud  and  re- 
iterated calls  from  the  top  of  the  stairs  re- 
called him  to  himself  and  brought  him  to  a 
realization  of  his  ridiculous  appearance. 

What  was  he  thinking  of?  He  was  thinking 
of  Lucie,  as  he  had  seen  her  in  her  sick  bed 
when  a child,  and  of  the  expression  of  purity 
that  had  beamed  from  her  calm  blue  eyes. 
And  she  had  become  a criminal? — ‘‘Impossi- 
ble ! impossible ! ” He  repeated  the  word  almost 
savagely,  as  he  pulled  down  over  his  long 
white  locks  the  hat  handed  him  by  the  old 
house-keeper. 


HYPNOTISM. 


163 


I should  have  watched  over  her  more 
closely  than  I did,”  he  muttered.  ‘‘  Saving  the 
child  is  all  very  well.  But  I should  also  have 
looked  after  the  woman.  Upon  my  word,  I am 
nothing  but  a selfish  old  man ! ” 

In  the  streets  through  which  he  passed  on 
his  way  to  the  place  of  meeting,  he  more  than 
once  attracted  the  attention  of  the  pedestrians 
by  the  involuntary  gestures  which  accompanied 
each  series  of  reflections  and  which  always  ter- 
minated as  in  a song,  by  these  words: 
‘‘Impossible!  it  is  impossible — ” 

This  good  old  man  firmly  believed  in  the 
honesty  of  people ; he  believed  above  all  in  the 
probity  and  in  the  purity  of  certain  privileged 
beings,  as  others  quite  naturally  believe  in 
evil.  It  pleased  him  to  be  a dupe;  or  rather 
he  maintained  that  he  had  never  been  a dupe, 
and  that  good  invariably  overcomes  evil  in  this 
world.  “And  the  proof  of  this  is  that  the 
world  goes  on,”  he  explained. 

The  idea  that  this  child,  whom  he  had  seen 
grow  up  almost  under  his  eyes,  could  be  sus- 


164 


HYPNOTISM. 


pected  of  infamy — and,  even  worse  than  that,  of 
an  atrocity — made  his  heart  revolt. 

Lucie! — accused  of  a crime!  They  did  not 
know  her,  that  w^as  all! ” 

His  emotion  was  indeed  poignant  when  he 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  young  girl 
in  the  dreary  prison  room.  He  remembered 
her  as  he  had  seen  her  on  the  day  of  her  first 
communion,  with  her  blonde  wavy  hair  floating 
beneath  her  w^hite  veil,  like  gold  beneath  a sil- 
ver cloud.  And  he  now  saw  her  in  this  Parisian 
cesspool,  between  these  walls  polluted  by 
women  bespattered  with  mire  and  assassins 
reeking  with  blood. 

He  bowed  his  snow-white  head  over  Lucie 
as  he  clasped  her  little  hand  in  his,  his  pale, 
wan  features  expressing  all  the  sympathy  and 
emotion  of  his  kind  heart.  After  a first  mo- 
ment of  deep  agitation,  the  girl  quickly  re- 
gained her  composure,  finding  in  the  fixed  idea 
that  dominated  her  the  strength  necessary  to 
bear  unflinchingly  the  gaze  and  questions  put 
to  her  by  this  honest  man,  who  had  formerly 


HYPNOTISM. 


165 


been  so  faithful  a friend  to  her  mother  and  her- 
self. Pomeroy  experienced  a sensation  of 
shame  and  humiliation,  as  if  the  prisoner  de- 
tained there  under  an  accusation  of  murder 
were  of  his  own  kin.  And  was  she  not  also 
accused  of  robbery?  Ah!  that  was  more  cruel 
still  to  bear.  The  examination  of  the  old  man’s 
study  had  disclosed  the  fact  that  his  death  had 
been  either  preceded  or  followed  by  robbery! 
Without  clearly  understanding  why,  this  sec- 
ond accusation  irritated  and  humiliated  the  old 
doctor  more  than  the  first.  Lucie  a murder- 
ess, was  an  impossibility ; and  it  seemed  to  him 
that  there  could  be  no  difficulty  in  proving 
this  impossibility.  For  why  should  she  have 
struck  M.  de  la  Berthiere  ? Lucie  a thief,  was 
something  more  vile — and  the  accusation  was 
more  difficult  to  combat.  No  one  had  entered 
the  old  man’s  study  before  the  young  girl’s 
arrival,  and  everything  had  been  left  in  the 
state  found  by  the  servants  when  the  murder 
had  been  first  discovered.  The  rows  of  dis- 
ordered books,  the  rifled  atlas,  the  large  vol- 


166 


HYPNOTISM. 


umes  in  wliicli  were  found  a number  of  bank- 
notes, all  tended  to  prove  that  the  motive  of 
the  crime  was  robbery.  Yes,  robbery!  It  was 
clear  that  the  guilty  party  had  entered  the  old 
man’s  house  with  the  intention  of  robbing  him, 
and  some  unexpected  obstacle  having  inter- 
vened, he  had  killed  him. 

Doctor  Pomeroy  hack  learned  all  this  before 
going  to -the  station.  The  Judge  of  Instruc- 
tion had  explained  the  matter  point  by  point  to 
him.  It  was  evident  that  the  accusation  held 
Lucie  as  in  the  closely  woven  meshes  of  a net. 
This  girl  was  a thief!  Where  had  she  hidden, 
to  whom  had  she  confided  the  bank-notes  she 
had  taken  from  Eue  Saint-Mederic  ? She  had 
made  no  reply  to  these  questions,  and  had 
obstinately  maintained  that  it  was  a case  of 
restitution.  Eestitution!  the  word  Mornas  had 
used  to  prevail  on  Lucie  to  obey,  had  overcome 
the  scruples  of  her  ’ slumbering  conscience. 
Pomeroy  had  listened  attentively  to  the  magis- 
trate’s words;  but  the  evidence  nevertheless 
failed  to  convince  him.  In  spite  of  all  these 


HYPNOTISM. 


167 


proofs,  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  believe  in 
the  young  girl’s  guilt;  unless  it  proved  to  be  a 
case  of  mental  aberration  or  madness. 

“Yes,  she  might  be  mad!”  he  concluded, 
with  a sigh. 

When  finally  admitted  to  her  presence  he 
did  not  dare  question  her,  and  allowed  the 
prison  physician  to  recommence  his  inquiry. 
But  it  proved  a mere  repetition  of  his  former 
attempt.  The  only  reply  received  from  Lucie 
was  the  same  irritating  reason — which  was  no 
reason  at  all — “ I was  obliged  to  do  it!  ” 

“ This  is  the  only  thing  I can  get  her  to 
say ! ” whispered  the  physician  in  Pomeroy’s 
ear. 

The  warden  and  female  attendant  who 
stood  beside  Lucie’s  motionless  figure  again 
exchanged  glances  of  scornful  pity.  They  had 
seen  so  many  obstinate  criminals,  each  follow- 
ing his  own  particular  system  of  defense,  that 
they  had  lost  all  confidence  in  human  nature, 
and  particularly  in  the  wretches  entrusted  to 
their  care. 


If38 


HYPNOTISM. 


^ But  wliat  surprised  even  them,  was  that  this 
girl,  so  polite  and  gentle,  so  calm  and  yet  reso- 
lute, did  not  even  try  to  defend  herself. 

It  is  incomprehensible! — incomprehensi- 
ble!” murmured  Pomeroy  between  his  teeth, 
as  he  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  brow. 

Then  he  tried  in  his  turn,  speaking  to  her  of 
the  past,  evoking  the  tender  recollections  of 
her  childhood  and  of  her  mother,  trying  to 
make  the  unfortunate  girl  weaken  in  some  ex- 
planation and  force  her  to  break  her  rigid  si- 
lence. For  one  moment,  one  moment  only,  he 
felt  that  he  had  made  an  impression  on  her 
unnatural  calm,  but  her  resolute  wull  qui.ckly 
regained  the  upper  hand,  and  though  she 
trembled  with  emotion,  she  quickly  recovered 
her  implacable  firmness,  and  replied  in  the 
same  tone  as  before: 

‘‘  I was  obliged  to.” 

“ And  why  ? Come,  tell  me  why  you  were 
obliged  to  do  so?  ” persisted  Doctor  Pomeroy. 

“Why?”  she  repeated. 

“ Yes.” 


HYPNOTISM. 


169 


This  was  the  eternal  interrogation  point ; the 
eternal  problem,  the  incessant  question.  Lucie 
replied  to  his  question  with  an  explanation  that 
did  not  explain.  She  reiterated  the  obligation 
of  obedience,  the  necessity,  the  fatality  of  go- 
ing where  she  had  gone,  of  doing  what  she  had 
done. 

As  she  concluded,  the  old  doctor  arose  and 
said,  almost  angrily: 

‘‘  Come,  look  at  me — straight  in  the  face! — ” 

He  had  taken  her  by  the  wrists,  and  was 
forcing  her  to  meet  his  gaze — without  any 
other  motive,  however,  than  to  read  within  her 
heart,  to  catch  a glimpse  of  her  conscience  in 
the  depths  of  her  clear  limpid  pupils. 

“ Tell  me  the  truth,  Lucie;  tell  me  all! — ” he 
commanded.  “ You  know  my  warm  affection 
for  you — your  silence  and  answers  grieve  me 
— grieve  me  deeply.  Come,  I beg  you,  my 
child,  tell  me  the  truth!  the  truth!  ” 

“I  have  told  you  the  truth!”  responded 
Lucie,  unflinchingly,  as  she  tried  to  resume  a 
more  rigid  attidude  before  the  fixed  gaze  of 


170 


HYPNOTISM. 


this  old  man  who,  with  a swelling  heart,  en- 
treated her  to  speak. 

But  the  inward  struggle  to  escape  from  these 
questions  proved  too  much  for  the  delicate 
frame,  her  head  suddenly  drooped  on  her 
shoulder,  and  she  sank  unconscious  in  the 
attendant’s  arms. 

“Take  her  back  to  the  infirmary  at  once!” 
ordered  the  official  physician.  “Watch  her 
closely — and  try  to  make  her  take  some  nour- 
ishment— some  bouillon — I shall  continue  the 
examination  to-morrow!  ” 

He  had  turned  to  Pomeroy,  much  perplexed ; 
while  the  attendant,  aided  by  the  warden  and 
another  assistant  who  had  hurried  in,  carried 
Lucie  into  the  infirmary. 

Pomeroy  seemed  completely  stunned.  He 
gazed  stupidly  at  the  door  through  which  the 
young  girl  had  disappeared,  and  stood  motion- 
less and  dazed. 

“I  don’t  understand  it!”  he  exclaimed  at 
last. 

“ There  is  evidently  something  that  escapes 


HYPNOTISM. 


171 


US  in  this  matter,”  said  the  other  physician. 
‘‘A  lunatic? — No.— Haunted  by  a fixed  idea? 
— Probably — I have  been  asking  myself 
whether  I had  not  better  order  her  taken  to 
Saint- Anne.” 

Although  Doctor  Pomeroy  did  not  naturally 
share  the  instinctive  dread  of  the  hospital  en- 
countered among  people  in  general,  he  never- 
theless shuddered  at  the  suggestion,  as  if  he 
already  saw  Lucie  confined  within  those  som- 
ber walls.  He  would  have  found  it  difficult  to 
explain  why — for,  after  all,  the  unhappy  girl 
clung  to  her  fixed  idea  like  a persecuted  being 
or  a maniac — but  in  spite  of  her  admissions, 
she  seemed  neither  a lunatic  nor  a guilty  per- 
son. 

“Yes,  I am  sure  I am  right,”  he  declared, 
“she  is  neither  guilty  nor  insane!  ” 

“ Then,  in  your  opinion,  what  is  she?  ” asked 
his  confrere, 

“ Ah  I what  is  she,  indeed  ? — If  I only  knew  1 ” 

“It  is  really  a most  mysterious  affair,” 
observed  the  prison  physician,  as  lie  escorted 


172 


HYPNOTISM. 


Doctor  Pomeroy  from  the  room.  Very  strange 
indeed — When  spoken  to,  she  has  the  appear- 
ance of  a somnambulist  and  replies  with  the 
obstinacy  of  a child  repeating  a lesson  learned 
by  heart,  as  if  some  one  had  impressed  this 
single  refrain  upon  her  mind.  ‘ I was  obliged 
to  do  so ! I was  obliged  to  do  so ! ’ A dramatic 
phrase  which,  from  the  stage,  would  bring  a 
smile  to  all  lips,  but  which,  eternally  repeated, 
with  the  same  calmness  and  in  the  same  tone, 
seems  almost  tragic  to  me — she  was  obliged 
to!  But  why  was  she  obliged  to  do  so?  Whom 
could  this  crime,  this  robbery  or  murder  bene- 
fit? A crime  is  rarely  conceived  by  one  per- 
son, there  is  nearly  always  an  accomplice. 
Even  supposing  the  crime  in  this  instance, 
who  could  have  suggested  it  to  Lucie  Lorin?” 

“Suggested? — Who?”  repeated  Pomeroy, 
mechanically,  “ suggested  ? ” — ■ 

“ Yes,  suggested!  ” exclaimed  his  compan- 
ion, energetically,  fully  convinced  he  had  dis- 
covered a new  clew. 

A deep  silence  followod,  v/hich  neither 


HYPNOTISM. 


173 


seemed  disposed  to  break;  then,  as  Pomeroy 
extended  his  hand  to  his  companion,  the  lat- 
ter added,  impressively:  “ We  are  not  at  the 
end  of  our  resources  yet — To-morrow  I shall 
ask  the  magistrate  to  delay  the  examination 
until  wo  have  prepared  a report — you  know 
this  girl’s  temperament — search  your  brain, 
your  memory — there  may  be  something  wrong 
in  that  brain — Good  by!” 

“Good  by!”  repeated  Pomeroy,  as  he 
turned  away,  his  genial  features  reflecting  the 
agitation  raging  within  him. 


174 


HYPNOTISM. 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

One  word  uttered  by  his  companion  had 
particularly  struck  the  good  old  doctor ; a word 
which  had  suddenly  awakened  in  his  mind  a 
world  of  new  thoughts,  a host  of  incredulities 
of  yesterday,  which  might  become  possibilities 
of  to-day. 

Suggested!  Even  supposing  the  crime  in 
this  instance,”  had  said  the  prison  physician, 
‘‘  who  could  have  suggested  it  to  Lucie  ? ” 

This  word,  to  which  his  colleague  had  prob- 
ably attached  no  importance,  he  was  now  re- 
peating to  himself  as  he  hurried  along,  with 
a sort  of  persistent  fury,  like  a man  who  finds 
himself  before  a closed  door  beyond  which  he 
is  sure  light  and  liberty  are  to  be  found. 

Suggested!  If  the  crime  existed,  Lucie  had 
evidently  neither  planned  nor  executed  it  alone. 
Some  exterior  will  had  combined  with  hers 


HYPNOTISM. 


175 


and  suggested  the  idea.  But — the  doctor 
stopped  short  in  his  reflections  at  this  point. 
A new  and  more  defined  sense,  a more  decisive 
application  to  the  word  “suggested,”  had  sud- 
denly dawned  upon  him.  The  suggestion  of 
which  his  confrere  had  spoken  a moment  be- 
fore in  vague  terms  now  assumed  a new  sig- 
nificance in  his  eyes;  a formidable  and  alarming 
significance,  but  a significance  that  meant 
hope  also.  Then  he  asked  himself  whether 
the  suggester  might  not  be  the  guilty  one — 
and  perhaps  the  only  guilty  one — instead  of 
the  accomplice. 

“ And  why  not?  why  not?”  repeated  the  old 
doctor,  as  he  strode  through  the  streets  in  the 
direction  of  Montmartre. 

Though  he  had  paid  little  heed  to  the  ques- 
tion, he  had  often  heard  of  those  trul}^  alarm- 
ing and  wonderful  experiments  which  had  1 
revolutionized  science  and  fired  even  the  most 
indifferent  with  enthusiasm. 

He  knew  that  at  the  SalpetriSre  the  experi- 
ments had  succeeded  in  exactly  determining 


176 


[lYPNOTISM. 


the  crises  of  hysteria,  in  studying  the  human 
brain  as  if  it  were  a mechanical  apparatus,  in 
analyzing  nervous  ailments  in  living  subjects 
with  the  same  precision  applied  in  dissecting 
a corpse.  He  had  hitherto  read  the  works  on 
hypnotism  with  a skeptical  smile,  and  looked 
upon  them  as  curiosities  without  practical  ap- 
plication. It  displeased  him  not  a little, 
hardened  old  idealist  that  he  was,  to  be  forced 
to  admit  that  these  researches  on  cerebral  local- 
ization almost  brought  him  back  to  the  materi- 
alistic system  of  Gall,  and  that,  after  all,  the 
marvelous  experiences  of  the  new  school  only 
served  to  rehabilitate  Mesmer’s  system.  He 
had,  therefore,  until  then,  paid  but  little  atten- 
tion to  those  researches  that  had  excited  an 
entire  new  generation.  Nevertheless,  he  was 
not  entirely  a stranger  to  the  problems  recent- 
ly attacked,  and  sometimes  in  the  evenings, 
in  his  apartments  on  the  fourth  floor  of  his 
house  on  the  Boulevard-Clichy,  he  spent  a 
pleasant  hour  reading  the  works  of  those  phy- 
sicians who  made  a specialty  of  the  encephalon. 


HYPNOTISM. 


177 


“ I read  them  as  I would  a novel,”  the  good 
old  man  would  say,  with  a sarcastic  chuckle. 

And  yet,  though  ho  clung  firmly  to  the  old 
game  of  medicine,  as  he  expressed  it,  these 
sudden  openings  of  new  worlds  disturbed  him 
him;  without,  however,  making  him  incredu- 
lous. He  simply  asked  himself  if  these  new 
savants  had  added  anything  to  the  art  of  heal- 
ing by  their  remarkable  researches. 

“ Shall  we  have  more,  or  shall  we  have  less 
of  these  disquieting  maladies  after  their  exper- 
iments?” he  would  say.  ‘‘That  is  the  whole 
question.” 

But  now,  for  the  first  time,  the  studies  of 
these  new  scholars  appeared  to  him  with  a 
practical  utility;  and  a word,  a single  word 
fallen  from  his  colleague’s  lips,  caused  a com- 
motion in  his  brain  like  the  leaven  in  the 
dough.  As  he  walked  homeward,  all  the  works 
he  had  read,  all  the  impressions  he  had  experi- 
enced, crowded  into  his  brain  with  startling 
vividness,  and  he  hurried  on,  anxious  to  be 
once  more  alone  in  his  study,  that  he  might 


178 


HYPNOTISM. 


read  over  again  all  the  works  bearing  on  that 
suggestion  of  which  Lucie  Lorin  was  perhaps 
the  victim. 

“Is  Monsieur  ill?”  asked  the  old  house- 
keeper in  alarm  as  he  entered,  his  face  flushed 
by  mental  agitation. 

“No,  Julie,  I am  not  ill,”  he  replied,  ab- 
sently. 

“But,  Monsieur,  you  look  very  strange!” 
persisted  the  woman.  “ H^s  anything  hap- 
pened? ” 

“ Nothing  has  happened,”  he  said,  as  he 
hastened  to  his  study  and  closed  the  door  be- 
hind him. 

Here  he  spent  long  hours  poring  over  vol- 
umes through  which  he  had  merely  glanced  in- 
attentively a short  time  previous.  From  ac- 
counts of  experiments  at  the  Salpetri^re,  he 
passed  on  to  translations  from  foreign  writings; 
seeking  as  eagerly  as  he  had  done  when  a 
student  for  the  truth  in  the  pages  of  these 
books ; and  it  was  indeed  a touching  sight  to 
see  this  sexagenarian’s  stooped  flgure  bending 


HYPNOTISM. 


179 


over  pamphlets  and  moldy  volumes,  seeking 
the  salvation  of  a beloved  creature  in  a science 
which  he  had  formerly  scoffed  at  in  the  inten- 
sity of  his  impenitent  spiritualism. 

“After  all  there  may  be  some  truth  in  it,” 
he  murmured,  incoherently.  “ If  it  should  be 
true!  An  idea  suggested,  an  impulsive  force 
and  perhaps — Lucie — ” 

Then  seeking,  comparing,  eagerly  scanning 
his  books,  he  went  back  as  far  as  James  Braid, 
who,  as  early  as  1841,  had  already  made  deci- 
sive experiments;  he  consulted  Charcot,  Heid- 
enhain,  Dumontpallier,  Ch.  Bichet,  J.  Luys, 
Azan,  Burnheim,  Liegeois,  Voisin,  Liebrault, 
and  the  possibility  of  hypnotic  suggestion  of 
that  capture  of  one  being  by  another,  as  Dr. 
Descourtis  called  it,  of  the  taking  possession 
of  a conscience  by  an  external  will,  gradually 
became  clearer  to  him. 

It  seemed  clearly  proven  to  him  now — to 
him  who  would  have  denied  the  phenomenon 
the  day  before — yes,  proven  that  a human 
being  might  undergo  in  a manner,  an  inter- 


180 


HYPNOTISM. 


mittance  of  conscience,  obey  a morbid  concep- 
tion imposed  by  another;  and,  while  in  a 
state  of  hypnotic  wakefulness,  lend  himself  to 
a series  of  actions  which  had  none  of  the  autom- 
atism of  somnambulism.  It  appeared  evident 
to  him,  as  he  continued  his  reading  with  the  de- 
termination of  finding  Lucy  innocent,  it  seemed 
certain  to  him  that  the  poor  girl  had  obeyed 
the  will  of  a suggester,  that  she  was  the  uncon- 
scious instrument  of  an  unknown  criminal. 

The  good  Doctor  was  not  a little  startled, 
and  uttered  several  exclamations  of  incredulity 
as  he  perused  these  works  and  passed  from 
one  doctrine  to  another.  What!  it  was  pos- 
sible to  thus  experiment  with  a human  being, 
to  mold  the  brain  as  if  it  were  so  much  putty, 
deform  it  and  transform  it  at  pleasure  ? 

More  astonishing,  more  incredible  and  iron- 
ical still  was  the  fact  that  it  was  possible — the 
human  brain  being  double — to  suppress  the 
activity  of  one  of  the  cerebral  hemispheres,  or 
give  to  each  a different  degree  of  activity. 
Different  hallucinations  might  even  be  created 


HYPNOTISM. 


181 


in  each,  so  that  in  the  cerebral  duality,  one 
side  of  the  brain  might  hate  while  the  other 
adored,  or  the  same  creature  might  be  swayed 
by  thoughts  of  honesty  on  the  left,  and  on  the 
right  be  haunted  by  ideas  of  vice  or  thoughts 
of  crime. 

Poor  Pomeroy  shuddered  as  he  read,  and 
the  perspiration  bathed  the  roots  of  the  scanty 
hair  that  fringed  his  bald  head. 

“It  seems  that  idealists  like  myself  are  only 
imbeciles,”  he  muttered.  “ And  yet  conscience 
is  above  science — right  is  right,  evil  is  evil! 
— What  a queer  machine  man  is!  ” 

But  if  the  living  creature  could  be  made  to 
submit  to  the  will  of  another  in  hypnotism, 
or  the  slumber  produced  by  magnetism  (for  all 
these  things  were  but  animal  magnetism  under 
new  and  scientific  names)  could  not  magnet- 
ism also  cure  the  evils  it  produced? 

In  one  of  Th.  Ribot’s  works  he  found  the 
case  of  a messenger  who,  while  in  this  hypnotic 
state,  mislaid  a package  entrusted  to  him,  and 
could  not  find  it  when  re-awakened,  but  hav- 


182 


HYPNOTISM. 


ing  been  once  more  plunged  into  a mesmerical 
si  amber  he  went  directly  to  the  place  where  he 
had  left  it  during  his  first  delirium.  And  the 
old  doctor  concluded  that  on  the  same  principle 
the  human  being  could  no  doubt  be  brought  to 
a recollection  of  what  had  passed  in  a former 
crisis  by  submitting  him  to  a sort  of  test, 
which  consisted  of  hypnotizing  him  anew. 

It  merely  required  a second  slumber  to  dis- 
cover the  secrets  of  the  first. 

‘‘Then — if  I should  hypnotize  Lucie?”  he 
exclaimed,  suddenly  starting  up. 

Yes,  pathological  memory  would  perhaps 
give  the  judge  the  key  to  the  enigma.  “ I was 
obliged  to  do  so!  I was  obliged  to  do  so!”  The 
young  girl  had  been  obliged  to  go  to  M.  de  la 
Berthiere’s  house  at  Versailles!  and  why? 

“ Circumstances  which  are  forgotten  when 
awake  are  recalled  when  in  this  hypnotic  state,” 
affirmed  one  of  the  authorities  consulted  by 
Pomeroy. 

Then  why  should  he  not  attempt  to  repro- 
duce the  scene  of  the  tragedy  before  Lucie’s 


ziijTOtism.  183 

own  eyes — or  better  still,  before  the  eyes  of  her 
judges? 

“It  is  incredible!”  thought  the  old  man, 
“had  anyone  told  me  this  morning  that  I 
would  contemplate  having  recourse  to  such 
practices,  I would  have  laughed  in  his  face — 
I was  then  an  unbeliever.  It  was  all  brought 
about  by  that  devilish  word:  suggested — sug- 
gested— and  if  it  were  true  ? If  that  child  had 
really  committed  a crime  when  under  the  spell 
of  another’s  will?” 

It  was  a complete  overthrow  of  all  his 
beliefs,  a sudden  sweeping  away  of  all  his 
scientific  deductions.  But  the  good  doctor 
was  not  headstrong.  And  besides,  it  was  a 
question  of  Lucie’s  fate! 

She  might  be  innocent,  not  only  of  the  act, 
but  in  conscience  even.  Conscience,  that  in- 
visible flame  which  casts  an  interior  light 
upon  the  mysteries,  the  doubts,  the  abysses  of 
moral  life,  sometimes  resists  suggestions. 

“ One  must  lie,  lie  skillfully  to  that  sleep- 
ing conscience  to  dominate  it,”  thought  Pome- 


184 


RYPNOTISM. 


roy.  “ For  honesty  still  continues  to  struggle, 
even  in  that  state  of  subjection!” 

“ Ah!  the  poor  child!”  he  added,  his  thoughts 
going  rapidly  to  Lucie,  ‘‘how  she  must  have 
struggled  if  she  really  underwent  the  impul- 
sion of  another’s  will!” 

After  a few  hours  spent  in  study  and  in 
reading  works  of  this  kind,  he  had  worked 
himself  into  such  a fever  that  he  was  forced  to 
go  out  for  a walk  on  the  boulevard  to  drive 
away  the  congestion  which  threatened  him.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  all  that  was  passing 
around  him,  all  that  was  printed  in  those 
reviews,  those  books,  those  pamphlets — the 
cases  of  hysteria  mentioned  by  Bottet  or 
others,  Lucie’s  arrest  and  the  interrogation  at 
the  Prefecture  de  police — belonged  to  some  fan- 
tastic world,  and  that  they  had  no  existence  in 
fact.  It  was  like  a fabulous  universe,  peopled 
with  absurd  and  feverish  visions  that  scoffed  at 
his  optimism.  But,  after  all,  since  the  evil 
existed — and  he  was  forced  to  admit  that  point 
— why  should  he  not  undertake  to  combat  it 


HYPNOTISM. 


185 


with  evil  ? If  a suggestion  could  lead  to  crime, 
why  could  it  not  be  utilized  for  the  punish- 
ment of  it? 

“What  nonsense!”  he  ejaculated,  as  he 
reached  this  knotty  point  in  his  medita- 
tions. 

“But  no,  it  is  not  nonsense!”  he  added  in  a 
decided  tone.  “Either  the  phenomenon  exists 
or  it  does  not  exist.  If  it  exists,  I oppose  it 
with  its  own  resources  and  combat  it  with  its 
own  forces!” 

The  good  old  man  slept  but  little  that  night, 
and  long  before  the  hour  fixed  for  the  official 
examination  the  next  morning  he  started  in 
the  direction  of  the  prison  physician’s  home. 
He  was  at  a loss  to  know  in  what  manner  he 
should  broach  the  subject,  fearing  to  make 
himself  somewhat  ridiculous,  for  what  he  w^as 
about  to  propose  was  something  decidedly 
strange  and  out  of  the  common  practice.  He, 
who  had  always  professed  an  instinctive  horror 
of  what  he  termed  the  nonsensical  prattle  of 
hypnotism,  was  now  about  to  proclaim  to  this 


186 


HYPNOTISM. 


learned  physician  that,  after  all,  hypnotism 
might  contain  an  atom  of  truth,  and  that  this 
atom  perhaps  contained  the  proof  of  Lucie’s 
non-culpability. 

He  will  think  me  an  old  fool!”  he  mut- 
tered, as  he  hurried  on. 

To  his  great  astonishment,  however,  his  il- 
lustrious colleague  did  not  receive  his  sugges- 
tion as  ridiculous;  neither  did  he  seem 
shocked  or  express  surprise  to  find  so  bold  a 
project  conceived  beneath  the  old  man’s  long 
white  locks. 

What  I have  said  then  does  not  seem  too 
scandalous  to  you  ? ” ventured  Pomeroy,  tim- 
idly. 

“ Not  at  all,”  replied  his  friend.  “I  had 
precisely  the  same  thought  when  I left  you 
yesterday.  Lucie  Lorin  is  evidently  under  the 
spell  of  some  external  fascination,  and,  per- 
haps, as  you  say,  my  dear  Pomeroy,  hypnotism 
may — ” 

Oh!  you  must  not  believe  that  I place  very 
much  faith  in  hypnotism,”  interrupted  the  old 


HYPNOTISM. 


187 


doctor  quickly.  “ I will  even  admit  that  I 
have  barely  looked  into  the  matter,  and  have 
given  the  question  but  little  study,  for  it  has 
always  inspired  me  with  distrust.  But  we 
must  not  shut  the  door  against  progress, 
merely  because  it  is  something  new.  We  are 
growing  older,  and  we  have  already  seen  many 
improbable  things  in  science  and  politics  dur- 
ing our  life-time.  The  child  now  in  the  cradle 
wdll  no  doubt  live  to  see  some  things  still  more 
startling.  The  telephone  and  phonograph  are 
very  pretty  miracles  which  would  have  caused 
Edison  to  be  burned  as  a wizard  a few  hun- 
dred years  ago — I am  ready  to  accept  hypno- 
tism, if  it  exists ! It  will  not  prevent  me  from 
retaining  my  former  faith;  for  you  know  my 
dear  friend,  it  is  perhaps  simple,  but  I still 
believe  in  God!  ” 

“Very  good,”  said  his  companion,  who  was 
a follower  of  Voltaire.  “We  shall  see  if  he 
is  on  Lucie  Lorin’s  side!” 

He  then  informed  Pomeroy  that  they  must 
immediately  go  before  the  Judge  of  Instruction 


188 


HYPNOTISM. 


and  state  the  case  to  him.  These  two  honest 
physicians  were  fully  of  the  opinion  that  Lucie 
Lorin,  whom  they  knew  to  have  been  weak  and 
nervous  from  childhood,  must  have  obeyed  the 
impulsion  or  the  suggestion  of  some  other  per- 
son’s will,  and  that  she  would  persist  in  her 
silence ; clinging  to  her  irritating  reply  of: 
“I  was  obliged  to  do  so!  ” in  spite  of  all  the 
efforts  of  justice  to  make  her  speak.  They 
were  convinced  that  she  would  be  tried  and 
condemned  without  giving  any  other  explana- 
tion ; and  that  the  unfortunate  girl  would  con- 
tinue in  her  tragic  hallucination  even  in  the 
gloomy  silence  of  a prison  cell. 

And  it  was  for  these  two  physicians,  one  rep- 
resenting law,  the  other  mercy,  to  unite  in  sup- 
plicating justice  to  allow  science  to  lend  the 
assistance  of  its  experiences  to  the  researches 
of  the  instruction.  What  the  police  would  no 
doubt  never  discover,  medicine  would  perhaps 
find.  It  was  an  unusual  petition,  without  pre- 
cedent— for  it  was  not  a question  of  mental 
alienation,  but  of  magnetism — and  it  concerned 


HYPNOTISM. 


189 


the  life  of  a human  creature,  a question  of 
equity  and  public  vindication  at  the  same  time. 
The  judge  could  not  refuse  such  a prayer. 

“ But  if  he  should  refuse?”  asked  the  old 
doctor,  anxiously. 

“He  will  not  refuse,”  replied  his  friend,  in 
a tone  of  conviction.  “ I will  prepare  at  once 
to  accompany  you  to  his  office.” 

An  hour  later  they  were  seated  in  the  exam- 
ining magistrate’s  private  study,  deeply  im- 
mersed in  the  details  of  their  project. 

Jean  Mornas  little  imagined  what  was  tak- 
ing place;  and,  notwithstanding  his  agonies  or 
the  pain  he  experienced  at  the  thought  that 
this  child  whom  he  loved  so  deeply  was  in 
prison,  he  reassured  himself  at  each  new  terror 
which  crossed  his  brain  by  the  conviction  that 
she  would  not  speak,  and  that  the  truth  would 
never  be  known, 

Lucie’s  silence  was  his  hope,  his  certainty  of 
salvation. 

He  calculated  that  the  result  of  the  trial 
would  be  that  either  the  prosecution  would  be 


190 


HYPNOTISM. 


unable  to  prove  Lucie’s  guilt,  and  the  jury 
would  acquit  her,  or  that  science  would  prove 
insanity,  and  the  irresponsible  young  girl  would 
not  even  be  sent  to  the  court  of  assizes. 

Then  another  thought  suddenly  occurred  to 
Mornas,  insanity! — Yes,  of  course!  But  that 
signified  the  mad-house  for  the  unfortunate 
girl.  A prison  more  terrible  than  the  other; 
sinister  and  peopled  with  frightful  visions! 

And  it  was  he  who  condemned  this  pretty 
young  girl,  whose  lips  had  attracted  his  kisses, 
to  the  four  walls  of  a maniac’s  cell.  In  the 
company  of  all  those  mad  people,  Lucie  would 
also  become  mad! 

He  shuddered  at  the  thought. 

If  I could  but  rescue  her!  ” he  exclaimed. 
“ But  how — By  simply  giving  myself  up  to  the 
authorities!” 

“Yes,  but  if — and  why  not?  Lucie  shall  be 
acquitted;  what  is  the  use  of  sacrificing  my- 
self?” 

Lucie  wns  not  yet  condemned,  and  she  would 
perhaps  escape  entirely ; at  all  events,  he  would 
still  have  time  to  save  her  if  necessary. 


HYPNOTISM. 


191 


In  the  meantime,  he  wearied  his  body  with 
fatiguing  exercises  and  long  walks  to  escape 
from  his  thoughts,  to  occupy  his  days,  to  en- 
liven his  solitude.  Wherever  he  w^ent,  he  car- 
ried his  treasure  closely  pressed  against  his 
breast,  even  at  the  risk  of  losing  it  in  the 
j jstlings  of  the  crowded  streets.  Wherever  he 
went,  he  carried  his  fortune — and  his  remorse; 
or  rather  his  anxiety,  the  anxiety  of  what  to- 
morrow might  bring  forth  for  Lucie. 

Through  a sentiment  of  ferocious  bravado — 
or  of  fear  perhaps — he  had  given  himself  the 
sinister  pleasure  of  assisting  at  M.  de  la  Ber- 
thiere’s  obsequies  at  Versailles. 

He  had  seen  Rue  Saint-Mederic  thronged 
with  people  and  had  listened  to  the  silly  babble 
around  the  old  miser’s  coffin.  M.  de  la  Ber- 
thiere  was  little  regretted.  Curiosity  alone 
had  brought  all  these  people,  who  lined  the 
streets  leading  to  the  church  to  see  the  cortege 
pass.  An  old  skinflint  who  would  have  hag- 
gled over  an  egg,  or  split  a farthing  in  four — 
a selfish  man,  who  would  not  give  a sou  to  the 


192 


HYPNOTISM. 


poor,  whose  purse  was  closed  as  tightly  as  his 
door  ! — Of  what  use  was  he  in  the  world  ? — If 
it  were  true  that  he  had  seduced  the  woman 
who  had  killed  him,  she  had  done  perfectly 
right — the  wretched  creature  ! — Such  were  the 
expressions  that  fell  upon  Mornas’  ears;  and  if 
he  had  felt  any  remorse,  these  obsequies  would 
have  dissipated  it;  were  they  not  the  very 
justification  of  his  plan  of  combat?  He,  young 
vigorous,  eloquent,  had  suppressed  this  useless 
being,  had  confiscated  a portion  of  his  idle 
wealth. — Had  the  world  suffered  any  real  loss 
because  this  old  bed-ridden  man  was  now  lying 
between  four  boards  under  that  black  pall? 
Eemorse? — No,  Jean  experienced  none.  He 
assisted  at  all  this  as  if  at  a theater.  The 
money  taken  from  the  dead  man  lay  against  his 
.breast;  but  he  argued  that  the  vanquisher 
1 always  despoiled  his  bleeding  adversary  on  the 
field  of  battle.  It  was  simple  enough,  and  only 
just  perhaps! 

And  audaciously,  or  rather  prudently,  he 
searched  the  throng  gathered  about  the  funeral 


HYPNOTISM. 


193 


car  for  the  nephew  who  had  recommended  him 
to  M.  de  la  Berthiere  as  a competent  assistant 
for  the  compilation  of  the  work  on  Medicine 
Among  the  Arabs,  It  was  important  that  this 
nephew  and  the  servants  of  the  house  should 
see  him  there,  and  have  no  occasion  to  express 
surprise  at  the  absence  of  “ Monsieur’s  secre- 
tary.” When  approached,  the  dead  man’s 
nephew  pressed  Jean’s  hand  with  singular 
vivacity,  scarcely  dissimulating  his  joy — the 
joy  of  an  heir — in  the  correct  bow  and  discreet 
smile  with  which  he  greeted  his  former  fellow- 
student.  The  other  mourning  relatives  grouped 
around  the  nephew  had  succeeded  in  conceal- 
ing the  same  sentiment  under  an  assumed 
demeanor  of  sorrowful  regret;  but  Jean  under- 
stood that  they  were  merely  inspired  by  mo- 
tives of  policy,  and  that  they  were  as  eager  as 
the  other  to  enjoy  the  old  man’s  fortune. 

Leaving  the  little  knot  of  hypocritical  mourn- 
ers, he  sought  out  the  valet  and  engaged  in  con- 
versation with  him  concerning  the  particulars 
of  the  tragedy. 

13 


194 


HYPNOTISM. 


It  was  all  very  quickly  and  quietly  done,” 
said  the  man,  as  he  walked  on  at  Mornas’  side 
a few  paces  behind  the  hearse.  “ The  woman 
came  to  the  door  bringing  a letter  for  Mon- 
sieur, which  she  said  must  be  delivered  at  once 
— I carried  the  letter  in  and  was  told  to  show  the 
woman  into  the  study  and  leave  them  alone. 

“ I ushered  her  in  and  closed  the  door,  leav- 
ing them  together — I remarked  that  she  was 
very  pretty ; and  if  Monsieur  had  been  younger, 
I might  have  thought — ” 

The  valet  smiled  knowingly;  then  remem- 
bering that  the  corpse  was  almost  beside  him, 
he  cut  short  his  suppositions. 

‘‘  She  came  out  again  in  about  five  minutes,” 
he  resumed,  more  soberly ; ‘‘  and  as  I opened 
the  door  to  let  her  out,  I don’t  remember 
remarking  anything  strange  in  her,  save  that 
she  seemed  preoccupied  and  hurried.  The  car- 
pet having  deadened  the  sound  of  the  fall,  I 
had  heard  no  noise,  and  consequently  did  not 
go  to  the  study  for  some  time  afterward — When 
I found  him  lying  there  dead,  I searched  the 


HYPNOTISM. 


196 


room  for  the  letter  brought  by  the  girl,  in  the 
hope  of  findiDg  out  something ; but  my  search 
was  in  vain,  she  had  taken  it  with  her ; and  had 
it  not  been  for  the  envelope  accidentally 
dropped  at  the  railway  station,  we  should  never 
have  found  any  trace  of  her  ! — And  even  as  it 
is,”  he  concluded,  though  the  woman  is  in 
custody,  no  convicting  evidence  has  yet  been 
discovered  against  her.  It’s  all  very  mysteri- 
ous, to  say  the  least.” 

While  listening  to  the  man’s  description  of 
the  tragic  events,  Mornas’  artistic  nature  was 
lost  in  admiration  of  the  marvelous  precision 
unconsciously  displayed  by  Lucie  in  the  accom- 
plishment of  the  suggested  act.  The  most  per- 
fect of  chronometers  could  not  have  worked 
more  methodically.  She  had  done  what  she 
had  been  commanded  to  do;  and  when  an 
unexpected  obstacle  had  risen  in  her  path 
she  had  unhesitatingly  thrust  it  out  of  her 
way.  That  she  would  continue  to  obey  the 
suggestion  imposed  on  her,  he  could  not 
doubt.  Never  would  his  name  escape  her 


196 


HYPNOTISM, 


lips.  Even  in  the  days  of  torture,  no  power 
could  have  unsealed  the  lips  of  a creature  thus 
dominated  and  subdued. 

As  he  gazed  at  the  faces  of  the  curious 
throng  and  listened  to  the  conversation  of  the 
indifferent  followers  in  the  funeral  procession, 
he  felt  a sentiment  of  mingled  irony  and  bra- 
vado possess  his  heart;  and  though  he  had 
actually,  though  involuntarily,  killed  the  man 
they  were  bearing  to  his  last  rest,  he  experi- 
enced a sort  of  pride  in  figuring  in  the  front 
ranks  of  the  cortege,  in  deriding,  by  his 
audacity  and  contempt,  the  timidities,  modest- 
ies and  honest  hypocrisies  of  the  crowd  that 
jostled  him. 

The  coffin  was  but  a mass  of  flowers,  the 
whole  gloom  of  mourning  and  death  had  dis- 
appeared beneath  a profusion  of  wreaths 
brought  by  relatives  and  servants;  and  as  the 
procession  slowly  wended  its  way  to  the  city  of 
the  dead,  the  wind  wafted  a subtile  odor  of  vio- 
lets to  those  behind,  and  delicate  flowery  petals 
and  lilac  blossoms  were  strewn  on  the  pavement 
of  the  street 


HYPNOTISM. 


197 


Still  in  his  mood  of  raillery,  Jean  was  think- 
ing of  the  antithesis  of  this  rotting  corpse  and 
those  fragrant  blossoms,  of  that  shriveled  body 
lying  there  enshrouded  beneath  such  an  abun- 
dance of  perfumed  flowers ; and  it  seemed  to 
him  that  the  lilacs  also  scoffed  at  the  old 
miser’s  funeral.  Why  was  it  that  so  much 
beauty  was  wasted  on  the  coffin  of  an  old  ego- 
tist? 

‘‘  Harpagoii  blossoming  like  Ophelia,”  he 
muttered,  derisively.  “ The  mandarin  has  the 
funeral  of  a young  virgin  ; and  for  want  of  tear- 
ful eyes,  the  flowers  weep!  ” he  added,  gazing 
at  the  ground  strewn  with  the  petals  fallen 
from  the  wreaths. 

He  remained  to  the  last,  and  did  not  turn 
away  until  M.  de  la  Berthiere’s  coffin  had  been 
lowered  into  the  grave. 


198 


HYPNOTISM. 


OHAPTEE  XIL 

The  fast  express  was  dashing  along  with  its 
usual  dizzying  speed  toward  Versailles,  bearing 
among  its  passengers  a young  woman  dressed 
in  a modest  black  gown  and  carefully  guarded 
by  a party  of  five  men,  two  of  whom  wore  the 
badges  of  their  office.  The  girl  quietly  submit- 
ted to  their  guidance,  obeying  mechanically, 
seemingly  lost  in  reverie  and  unconscious  of 
her  surroundings.  Seeing  her  the  object  of  so 
much  attentive  watching,  the  employes  of  the 
Gare  Montparnasse  had  at  first  supposed  her 
to  be  a lunatic  who  was  being  transferred  to 
the  asylum,  but  they  had  been  quickly  unde- 
ceived by  the  station-master. 

“She  is  not  a lunatic  by  any  means!”  he 
said,  shaking  his  head  ominously.  “ She  is 
the  woman  who  murdered  that  helpless  old 
man  at  Versailles.” 


HYPNOTISM. 


199 


The  Judge  of  Instruction  had  at  last  con- 
sented to  send  Lucie  Lorin  to  the  scene  of  the 
tragedy,  accompanied  by  Doctor  Pomeroy  and 
the  prison  physician.  The  other  travelers  were 
two  police  officers ; while  two  detectives  fol- 
lowed by  the  same  train  in  a second-class  com- 
partment. 

Lucie  silently  watched  the  fields,  the  houses, 
the  leafiess  trees  and  the  bright  sun  melting 
away  the  last  traces  of  snow;  while  Doctor 
Pomeroy  closely  scrutinized  the  innocent  child- 
ish countenance,  trying  to  decipher  the  hidden 
thoughts  and  wondering  how,  with  such  a pure, 
angelic  face,  she  could  be  even  suspected  of  a 
crime! 

When  the  good  doctor  naively  propound- 
ed the  question  to  the  chief  of  the  de- 
tective bureau,  who  sat  opposite  him,  the  of- 
ficer shrugged  his  shoulders  significantly  and 
laughed. 

My  dear  doctor,”  he  said,  “ it  is  evident 
that  you  know  little  of  vice.  The  face  proves 
nothing;  the  most  innocent  looking  have  been 
known  to  strangle  both  father  and  mother!” 


200 


HYPNOTISM. 


Pomeroy’s  optimism  had  received  rude 
shocks  daring  the  few  preceding  days.  But 
notwithstanding  appearances,  he  still  obsti- 
nately refused  to  believe  the  girl  a criminal. 
And  what  was  more  he  would  prove  it!  A 
flood  of  ideas  surged  in  the  old  doctor’s  head 
and  his  heart  throbbed  to  bursting  since  the 
perception  of  a possible  suggestion,  of  a re- 
sponsible complicity,  had  occurred  to  him. 

It  had  required  all  the  eloquence  and  scien- 
tific authority  of  the  prison  physician  to  obtain 
permission  to  attempt  the  experiment  deter- 
mined upon.  The  eminent  man  had  begged 
that  the  girl  should  not  be  confronted  with  the 
corpse  of  M.  de  la  Berthiere,  declaring  that 
she  was  ill,  in  a sort  of  lethargic  state,  and 
that  all  tragic  sensation  might  cause  a morbid 
crisis.  Besides,  why  should  justice  demand 
this  needless  torture,  since  Lucie  denied  noth- 
ing, admitted  the  crime  with  a sort  of  obsti- 
nate bravado,  in  fact? 

At  the  same  time  he  claimed  the  right  to 
try  the  experiment,  which  he  hoped  would 


HYPNOTISM. 


201 


prove  decisive;  urgently  requesting  that  lie 
and  Pomeroy  be  allowed  to  question  the 
prisoner  in  their  own  way,  according  to  the 
means  they  thought  proper  to  employ,  and  in 
the  victim’s  room  at  Versailles.  Had  not  the 
physician  of  the  Salpetri^re  recently  proved 
the  innocence  of  a man,  by  demonstrating  that 
the  poor  devil  was  a somnambulist,  and  that 
the  crime  he  was  accused  of  had  been  com- 
mitted while  in  the  unconscious,  irresponsible 
state  of  somnambulism?  The  testimony  ad- 
mitted by  a court  of  appeal,  might  assuredly 
be  permitted  by  a magistrate  of  M.  Warmer’s 
intelligence ! 

M.  Warnier  had  therefore  finally  yielded  to 
these  persuasive  arguments;  and  Doctor  Pom- 
eroy was  experiencing  the  strongest  emotions 
of  his  life  on  that  memorable  day  as  the  train 
sped  toward  Versailles.  The  experiment  he 
was  about  to  make  seemed  a far  greater  under- 
taking than  the  operation  he  had  formerly 
performed  to  save  Lucie  Lorin  from  the  croup. 
To  prove  the  innocence  of  an  accused  being, 


202 


HYPNOTISM. 


to  wash  a stain  from  a pure  soul,  was  a sub- 
blime,  heroic  deed!  The  worthy  man  trembled 
beforehand,  almost  hesitating  at  the  hazardous 
step  determined  upon. 

And  what  if  the  experiment  ended  in  estab- 
lishing Lucie’s  culpability?  If  he  were  to 
lose,  instead  of  saving  her?  His  heart  almost 
stood  still  at  the  horrible  thought,  and  his 
blood  turned  cold  in  his  veins. 

But  then,  was  she  not  lost,  absolutely  lost  if 
not  torn  from  this  accusation,  if  her  strange 
mental  state  remained  unexplained?  The 
officers,  detectives,  even  the  judge,  though 
liberal  minded,  would  have  staked  their  repu- 
tation on  her  guilt.  Even  the  prison  surgeon, 
who  had  insisted  on  the  examination,  had  little 
faith  ill  the  girl’s  innocence. 

“ She  may  possibly  have  been  unconscious,” 
he  said,  “but  she  certainly  struck  the  blow.” 

A carriage  was  in  waiting  at  Versailles,  and 
the  party  was  at  once  conveyed  to  Eue  Saint- 
Mederic.'  The  Judge  of  Instruction  immedi- 
ately led  the  way  to  the  library  which  M.  de 


HYPNOTISM. 


203 


la  Bertliiere  liad  almost  constantly  occupied, 
and  tlie  others  followed.  Lucie  started  as  she 
entered  the  room,  and  her  whole  frame  shook 
as  if  agitated  by  a violent  spasm. 

“ Courage,”  whispered  the  kind  old  doctor, 
gently. 

She  made  an  effort  to  control  her  emotion, 
and  leaned  against  the  book-shelves  for  sup- 
port; standing  there  motionless,  her  haggard 
eyes  fixed  on  the  low  bed  where  she  had  seen 
the  emaciated,  cadaverous,  old  man  on  that 
day. 

It  seemed  to  her  he  was  still  lying  there,  cr 
rather  sitting  bolt  upright,  his  long,  skeleton 
hand  stretched  toward  her.  Then  her  eyes 
mechanically  turned  to  the  bottom  of  the 
shelves  in  search  of  the  spot  where  he  must 
have  fallen,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  saw 
a dark  stain  on  the  light  carpet. 

Was  it  ink  or  blood? 

The  Judge  of  Instruction  seated  himself  be- 
fore a table,  and  spread  his  papers  on  it,  while 
the  clerk  placed  himself  near  the  small  stand 


204 


HYPNOTISM. 


on  Avhicli  M.  de  la  Berthiere  had  kept  his  acous- 
tic tube,  now  hanging  useless  on  the  wall. 

The  prison  physician  stood  facing  Lucie,  his 
eyes  fixed  attentively  on  her  face,  while  Pome- 
roy, pale  and  agitated,  rubbed  his  chin 
thoughtfully,  as  if  in  a troubled  dream. 

Standing  on  the  threshold,  their  arms  folded 
and  their  eyes  roaming  curiously  around  the 
incumbered  room,  the  two  officers  silently 
awaited  the  orders  of  their  chief,  while  in  the 
adjoining  salon  appeared  the  curious  faces  of 
the  servants,  craning  their  necks  to  peer  into 
the  room,  as  if  the  mere  inspection  of  the 
scene  could  give  them  a foretaste  of  the  com- 
ing tragedy. 

‘‘ Do  you  recognize  this  room?”  asked  the 
Judge  of  Instruction,  abruptly,  after  a long, 
painful  silence. 

He  was  addressing  Lucie,  gazing  fixedly  at 
her  and  giving  this  first  question  the  clearness 
and  distinctness  of  an  attack. 

“ Yes,  Monsieur,”  replied  the  young  girl, 
firmly. 


HYPNOTISM. 


205 


“Was  M.  de  la  Bertliiere  on  this  bed  when 
you  entered  ? ” 

“Yes,  Monsieur.” 

“Where  were  you?  Tell  me  the  exact  spot 
on  which  you  stood  when  M.  de  la  Berthiere 
greeted  you?” 

“ I was  just  about  where  I am  standing  now !” 
said  Lucie,  who  was  gradually  regaining  the 
implacable  firmness  of  her  usual  replies. 

“ Tell  us  what  passed  between  you  and  him.” 

She  fixed  her  dark  pupils  on  M-  Warnier 
with  a singular  fixedness ; then,  with  the  gesture 
corresponding  to  each  word,  she  advanced 
toward  the  bed  on  which  she  had  seen  M.  de 
la  Berthiere. 

“ I came  straight  in — ” she  said,  glowly.  “ He 
had  placed  the  letter  I had  brought  on  the  ta- 
ble beside  him — where  that  gentleman  is  writ- 
ing now — He  addressed  me  two  or  three 
questions — and  as  I knew  he  could  not  see,  I 
crouched  down  there,  near  those  books  to  take 
— what  I had  to  take — While  I was  searching 
he  heard  me — he  arose,  dragged  himself  to  that 


206 


HYPNOTISM. 


place  and  tried  to  prevent  me  from — from  get- 
ting wliat  I wanted — I struggled,  and  pushed 
him  away.  He  struck  his  head  there — and  fell 
— and — that— is  all!” 

“All?”  repeated  the  judge,  coldly.  “You 
then  admit,  once  more,  that  you  came  here  with 
the  object  of  robbing  this  unfortunate  man?” 

“Eobbing?”  she  echoed. 

She  shuddered  from  head  to  foot,  and  her 
frightened  eyes  dilated  with  a wild  expression 
in  their  depths. 

“I! — Eobhim?”  she  repeated,  her  pale  face 
becoming  ghastly. 

“ What  were  you  doing,  if  not  trying  to  rob 
him?  What  were  you  searching  for  among 
those  books  ? ” 

“I  was  searching — searching  for  what  I was 
to  find  there — for  what  I was  to  take  away.” 

“For  bank-notes? — Several  bills,  which  you 
had  forgotten,  were  picked  up  on  the  floor, 
near  the  books  you  opened.” 

The  kind  old  doctor  suffered  as  much,  or 
perhaps  more,  than  Lucie  through  this  inter- 


HYPNOTISM. 


207 


rogatory,  which  confused  her  so  cruelly  and 
was  so  surely  turning  against  her.  He  had 
expected  an  explanation,  a cry,  a word  of  proof, 
a flash  of  innocence,  in  fact  he  knew  not  what; 
but  she  remained  as  if  petrified  in  her  will, 
with  the  same  invariable,  seemingly  cynical 
answer:  “ Do  not  ask  me!  I can  not  even  de- 
fend myself!  What  is  done  is  done,  and  I 
have  only  done  what  I had  to  do!  ” 

They  still  plied  her  with  questions,  trying 
to  discover  what  had  become  of  the  bank-notes. 

“ They  have  been  put  where  you  can  not  find 
them.  That  man  had  stolen  them,  and  I re- 
covered them,”  she  returned,  firmly. 

“ And  where  is  the  letter  you  used  to  gain 
an  entrance  into  M.  de  la  Berthiere’s  room  ? ” 
asked  the  judge. 

“ I took  it  away  with  me,  tore  it  up  aiid 
burnt  it  when  I reached  home.” 

“But  what  was  in  the  letter?” 

“ That,  you  shall  never  know.  Besides,  I 
don’t  know  myself.” 

The  Judge  of  Instruction  and  the  chief  officer 


208 


HYPNOTISM. 


looked  at  each  other,  as  if  asking  an  explana- 
tion of  this  obstinacy;  while  the  clerk  wrote 
on  mechanically,  without  even  raising  his 
head. 

With  the  sudden  resolution  of  the  timid, 
determined  to  hesitate  no  longer.  Doctor  Pom- 
eroy stepped  quickly  forward,  saying:  “ Let 
me  question  her — I entreat  you.” 

Then  going  straight  to  Lucie,  he  clasped 
her  two  hands  in  his  and  gazed  fixedly  at  her. 

“ Come,  my  child,”  he  said,  gently,  “ you  will 
tell  me — will  you  not?”  — 

“What?”  she  interrupted,  with  nervous  ir- 
ritation. 

“The  truth,  the  truth,  child!” 

“ The  truth? — I have  told  the  truth.” 

She  tried  to  remove  her  fingers  from  his 
clasp  and  turned  away  her  head,  as  if  the  firm- 
ness she  had  sustained  before  the  judge  were 
deserting  her  suddenly  before  her  old  friend. 

The  prison  physician  was  curiously  follow- 
ing this  moral  duel  engaged  between  the  old 
doctor  and  the  young  girl. 


HYPNOTISM. 


209 


Lucie  instinctively  shrank  from  Pomeroy’s 
straightforward  glance,  and  her  gentle  blue 
eyes  became  haggard  and  frightened,  as  if 
fearing  the  doctor’s  pupils  would  pursue  and 
trace  their  secret  thoughts,  search  their  depths 
to  find  the  hideous  secret — drag  it  out  as  we 
drag  out  a drowned  being  from  the  depths  of  a 
lake.  She  shrank  from  his  gaze,  from  his 
questions;  while  he  resolutely  persevered, 
hoping  terror  itself  might  serve  to  save 
her. 

“ Look  at  me!  Look  at  me!  ” he  commanded, 
authoritatively,  in  that  resolute  tone  he  had 
used  Avben  she  was  a child  and  he  had  per- 
formed the  delicate  operation  on  her  throat 
which  had  saved  her  life.  And  though  so  gen- 
tle ahvays,  he  now  almost  roughly  forced  her 
to  look  at  him. 

Doctor  Pomeroy  was  under  the  influence  of 
one  of  the  most  violent  emotions  ever  experi- 
enced by  him.  The  first  time  he  had  touched 
the  cold  flesh  and  opened  the  veins  of  a corpse, 
he  had  nearly  swooned  away;  a similar  sliud- 

14 


210 


HYPNOTISM. 


der  now  crept  over  him  as  he  tightly  clasped 
the  girl’s  icy  hands  in  his. 

But,  in  spite  of  his  agitation,  he  felt  that  he 
must  attempt  the  experiment  agreed  upon,  and 
not  attempt  only,  but  succeed,  as  well. 

He  had  at  last  constrained  the  young  girl 
to  remain  motionless  before  him,  and  he  was 
gazing  fixedly  into  her  eyes.  He  vaguely  felt 
that  she  was  half  conquered,  that  his  volition 
dominated  the  resistance  of  this  brain,  even 
the  rebellion  of  this  young,  nervous  frame. 

The  fall  of  a pin  might  have  been  heard  in 
this  chamber  where  M.  de  la  Berthiere  had 
hitherto  coughed  and  gasped  in  his  death 
struggle;  and  Lucie’s  panting  breath  was 
plainly  heard  in  the  awful  silence  that  reigned, 
by  the  anxious  men  assembled  there. 

Doctor  Pomeroy  was  assembling  all  his 
forces,  throwing  all  his  hopes  in  a new  science 
in  which  he  only  half  believed,  and  driving  his 
own  will  into  the  wild,  dilated  eyes  before  him. 
He  felt  something  like  a sensation  of  shame 
invading  him.  It  seemed  to  him  as  though  he 


HYPNOTISM. 


211 


were  taking  advantage  of  tlie  conscience  of  a 
human  being,  as  if  this  conflict  between  the 
material  and  the  ideal  were  the  robbing  of  a 
will.  Although  Lucie  was  still  watchful,  he 
felt  that  she  was  slowly  falling  under  the  in- 
fluence of  this  new  power  into  that  state  which 
he  so  ardently  desired. 

Suddenly,  the  girl’s  head  drooped  on  her  left 
shoulder,  her  eyelids  closed,  and  she  remained 
motionless. 

“She  is  in  a state  of  catalepsy!”  said  the 
prison  physician. 

Pomeroy  released  the  hands,  but  Lucie  re- 
mained as  if  petrified.  He  raised  the  eyelids; 
the  pupils  were  fixed  and  dilated. 

“We  might  place  a light  near  the  eyes,  and 
the  lids  would  not  even  wink,”  said  the  prison 
physician,  approaching  nearer. 

The  Judge  of  Instruction  was  looking  on  the 
scene  as  if  he  were  the  spectator  of  a theatrical 
drama,  while  the  officers  who  stood  at  the  door 
gazed  at  the  girlish  figure  with  skeptical 
smiles. 


212 


HYPNOTISM. 


With  a slight  touch  Pomeroy  assured  himself 
of  that  ueuro-muscular  hyper  excitability  which 
characterizes  catalepsy.  He  then  made  her 
traverse  the  successive  stages  of  hypnotism, 
lethargy  and  somnambulism.  This  was  the 
decisive  phase  for  the  problem  he  had  to  solve. 
From  this  dominated,  conquered  being,  this 
conscience,  which  might  be  molded  at  will,  he 
must  demand  a hidden  secret,  demand  it  with 
the  authority  of  a master,  as  though  he  had 
the  right  to  read  the  open  pages  of  that  brain 
and  soul. 

How  often  he  had  spoken  of  hypnotic  sug- 
gestion with  doubt  and  derision ; and  yet  he  was 
about  to  use  this  power  to  find  the  unknown, 
the  redoubtable  unknown  quantity  of  a problem 
before  justice:  A crime  had  been  committed; 
who  had  committed  that  crime  ? 

“Lucie,”  began  the  old  doctor,  with  a slight 
tremor  in  his  voice,  “ listen  to  what  I say — 
This  is  M.  de  la  Berthiere’s  room,  do  you 
recognize  it  ? ” 

“ Yes,”  responded  the  girl,  who  saw  only 


HYPNOTISM. 


213 


in  recollection;  for  her  eyes  were  blind  to  her 
surroundings. 

You  came  here  to  speak  to  M.  de  la  Ber- 
thiere?”  continued  her  old  friend. 

‘‘  Yes,”  repeated  Lucie,  in  a suppressed 
voice. 

“ Who  sent  you?  ” 

“Who?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ No  one.” 

“Impossible!  You  did  not  come  of  your 
own  free  will. — Try  to  remember.” 

“Command  her!”  suggested  his  colleague. 

“Speak!  you  must  speak!  ” commanded  the 
old  physician,  imperatively.  “ It  was  not  you 
who  thought  of  coming  to  Yersailles!  It  was 
not  you ! ” 

“No! — it  was  not — ” 

“ Who  told  you  to  come?  ” 

“Me?” 

“ Yes,  you.” 

She  hesitated  and  struggled  as  if,  even  in 
her  somnambulic  state,  the  primary  injunc- 


214 


HYPNOTISM. 


tion  imposed  on  her  still  persisted,  remained 
imperishable;  and  her  sleeping  conscience 
rebelled  against  the  betrayal  of  an  order. 

“You  must  place  her  under  the  influence  of 
a new  suggestion,”  observed  the  prison  physi- 
cian. 

“ Yes,  I must  try!”  rejoined  Pomeroy,  irri- 
tably. 

Large  beads  of  perspiration  stood  on  his 
brow,  and  his  ideas  were  becoming  confused 
as  they  sometimes  are  in  absurd  dreams 
when  the  images  are  difformed  and  moving. 
He  was  asking  himself  if  all  this  were  real: 
this  chamber,  the  judge,  the  officers,  and  him- 
self standing  there — he,  the  unbeliever,  trying 
magnetic  experiments  on  Lucie — it  all  seemed 
lost  in  a troubled,  distant  perspective,  or  melted 
in  the  misty  atmosphere  of  a dream. 

And,  nevertheless,  from  this  chaos  there  must 
emerge  a guiding  ray  of  light,  a flxed,  obsti- 
nate idea:  Lucie  must  be  made  to  speak;  the 
name,  the  deed,  the  truth  must  be  torn  from 
her. 


HYPNOTISM. 


215 


Lucie!”  he  said,  sternly,  all  irresolution 
having  now  disappeared  from  his  voice  and 
manner,  “ listen  to  me. — You  are  no  longer  in 
Versailles — you  are  in  Paris,  in  Paris,  do  you 
hear?” 

“ In  Paris?”  she  repeated. 

“Yes,  in  your  own  room,  Rue  Audrain — You 
are  going  to  Versailles.  You  are  dressing  and 
thinking.  What  are  you  thinking  of?” 

There  was  no  answer  from  the  pale,  rigid 
figure. 

“What  are  you  thinking  of?”  repeated 
Pomeroy. 

“ What  am  I thinking  of  ? ” 

She  instinctively  repeated  the  question,  not 
to  find  a reply,  but  to  gain  time,  as  though  she 
felt  pushed  to  the  wall  in  this  duel  of  the  will 
and  wished  to  evade  the  conflict  or  fly. 

“Yes,”  assented  her  old  friend,  trying  to 
emphasize  the  exact  point  he  wished  to  keep 
in  view;  “ before  leaving  for  Versailles,  you  are 
thinking  of  what  you  must  do  there — You  know 
that  you  shall  find  M.  de  la  Berthiere?  ” 


21G 


HYPNOTISM. 


“Yes.  ” 

“Why  do  you  want  to  see  M.  de  la  Berthiere  ?” 

“Because  I must  see  him!” 

“ Do  you  know  him  ? ” 

“ I have  never  seen  him.  ” 

“ Never?  ” 

“ Never.  ” 

“ There  is  then  no  reason  why  you  should 
feel  any  resentment  toward  him?” 

“I!  feel  resentment  toward  him?  Why? 
What  harm  has  M.  de  la  Berthiere  done  me?” 

“ Then  why  do  you  Avant  to  strike  him  ? ” 

“ I am  not  thinking  of  striking  him.  I am 
thinking  of  the  papers  I must  take  from  the 
atlas.” 

“ What  atlas?” 

“Behind  the  books.” 

The  chief  officer  pointed  to  the  tumbled  pile 
of  books  on  the  last  shelf  of  the  library,  where 
Lucie  had  searched. 

“ How  do  you  know  there  are  papers  there?” 
resumed  the  old  doctor. 

“I  know  it,  that’s  all.” 


HYPNOTISM, 


217 


“ Who  told  you? ” 

“ Some  one.  ” 

“ Who?” 

“ The — the  person  who  gave  me  the  letter 
intended  for  M.  de  la  Berthiere.  ” 

“ A man  or  a woman?  ” 

The  spectators  of  the  scene  were  gazing 
intently  at  the  girl’s  face,  watching  every 
twitch  of  the  muscles. 

“Most  astonishing  indeed,”  whispered  the 
judge  to  the  chief. 

“ A man  or  a woman?”  repeated  Pomeroy. 

A wild  expression  flitted  over  the  young 
girl’s  face,  and  a sudden  contraction  of  the 
eyebrows  gave  the  soft  blue  eyes  a wicked 
gleam. 

“A  man!”  she  replied,  sharply. 

“ Why  did  that  man  give  you  the  letter?” 
pursued  the  doctor,  quickly. 

“Why ?— Why ? ” she  repeated,  evasively, 
with  the  same  rebellious,  almost  ferocious  ex- 
pression. 

A remnant  of  will,  dominated  by  the  primi- 


218 


HYPNOTISM. 


tive  suggestion,  was  evidently  rebelling  in  this 
childish  soul. 

Gathering  all  his  force  of  volition,  Pomeroy 
then  guided  Lucie  to  the  deed  he  wished  her 
to  commit  in  the  sight  of  all;  commanding  her 
to  live  over  the  words  and  actions  of  the  scene 
which  had  taken  place  in  that  room. 

Having  reached  the  threshold,  the  girl 
hesitated  a moment,  turned  her  eyes  on  the 
low  bed,  then  walked  toward  it  and  handed  an 
imaginary  letter  to  an  imaginary  M.  de  la 
Berthiere.  Turning  quickly  back,  she  stooped 
near  the  shelf  she  had  already  designated,  took 
up  the  atlas  and  drew  invisible  bank-notes 
from  between  its  pages,  going  through  the 
motion  of  slipping  the  notes  into  her  pocket. 
Suddenly,  ah  expression  of  terror  crept  over 
her  face ; believing  she  felt  the  bony  fingers  of 
the  murdered  man  clutching  her  shoulders,  she 
pushed  back  the  specter  and  seized  the  letter 
she  had  brought  as  a pretext ; then  with  a last 
glance  at  the  motionless,  bleeding  body,  her 
imagination,  or  rather  Pomeroy’s  will,  conjured 
up,  she  dashed  from  the  room. 


HYPNOTISM. 


219 


The  old  doctor’s  heart  was  throbbing  wildly, 
while  the  astonished  spectators  held  their 
breath. 

“ Where  are  you  going  now?”  he  resumed. 
“Go,  walk  on.  ” 

Lucie  walked  swiftly  through  the  room,  as 
if  fleeing;  then,  believing  she  had  reached  the 
station,  she  went  through  the  motion  of  buying 
a ticket,  and  sank  into  a chair  as  though  it 
were  the  seat  of  a compartment,  where  she 
crouched  like  a hunted  animal.  In  a few 
minutes  she  arose,  and  walked  to  and  fro,  the 
walls  of  the  room  seeming  like  high  houses  to 
her;  then  she  suddenly  stopped,  hesitated,  and 
entered  an  imaginary  place. 

“ Where  are  you?”  asked  the  doctor. 

“ Where  am  I?” 

“Yes.” 

There  was  still  the  same  prudent  hesitation, 
the  same  persistent  rebellion. 

“ Rue  Racine,”  she  finally  said. 

“She  believes  herself  there;  and,  in  fact, 
she  is  really  there,  ” observed  the  prison 
physician. 


220 


HYPNOTISM. 


The  Judge  of  Instruction  glanced  inquiring- 
ly at  the  clerk,  who  answered  with  a smile:  “ I 
have  made  a note  of  it.” 

“He  must  be  a student!”  murmured  the 
chief. 

“Eue  Eacine? — The  number?”  questioned 
Pomeroy. 

“The  number?” — she  made  an  effort  to 
remember,  but  did  not  succeed.  “I  don’t 
know,”  she  replied.  “I  really  don’t  know!” 

“ Try  to  remember ! ” 

“When  I tell  you  that  I don’t  know!”  she 
cried,  fiercely. 

“Don’t  insist,”  put  in  the  prison  physician, 
“ you  might  induce  an  attack  of  hysteria. — ” 

“Is  she  asleep?”  interrupted  the  judge 
gruffly,  as  if  shaking  off  a nightmare. 

“No;  she  is  in  a state  of  somnambulism,” 
replied  the  physician. 

“This  is  simply  the  magnetism  of  the  char- 
latan. Are  you  sure  she  is  not  acting  a part  ?” 
continued  the  judge. 

“ Command  her  to  go  to  the  door,”  said  the 
the  physician,  addressing  his  colleague. 


HYPNOTISM. 


221 


“Go  to  the  door!’’  commanded  Pomeroy  to 
the  girl. 

She  walked  away  like  an  automaton,  and 
stood  near  the  door. 

“ Now,”  said  the  prison  physician,  address- 
ing the  officers  who  stood  on  the  threshold, 
“take  her  by  the  wrists  and  hold  her  with  all 
your  strength!  ” 

“We  shall  hold  her  safely  enough,”  returned 
one  of  the  men.  “ I can  guarantee  that  she 
will  not  escape.” 

“ Very  well — Now,  Pomeroy,  call  her  back.” 

The  two  men  tightened  their  strong,  sinewy 
fingers  around  the  delicate  wrists  of  the  poor 
girl,  who  seemed  but  a frail  child  between 
these  robust,  broad-shouldered  officers  of  the 
law. 

“Lucie,”  said  Pomeroy,  simply,  “come  to 
me,  Lucie!” 

He  had  raised  his  hand,  and  with  a move- 
ment as  irresistible  as  the  action  of  a distending 
steel  spring,  the  frail  girl  thrust  back  the 
two  burly  officers;  and  while  one  picked  up 


222 


HYPNOTISM. 


liis  hat  with  a forced  laugh,  the  other  gazed 
in  terror  at  this  delicate  child  who  had  escaped 
from  their  strong  grasp  and  was  novf  standing 
rigidly  before  the  old  doctor,  who  was  also  al- 
most terrified  at  his  power. 

“The  name!  ask  her  the  name!”  cried  the 
judge,  carried  away  by  this  phenomenal  obe- 
dience. 

“Yes,  the  name!”  repeated  the  chief. 

Pomeroy  took  the  girl’s  hands  in  his  once 
more,  and  clasping  them  nervously,  looked 
straight  into  her  eyes. 

“Now  Lucie,”  he  said,  “who  sent  you  here? 
Whom  did  you  obey  ? Who  advised  you?  Who 
drove  you  to  come?  Who  remitted  you  that 
letter  for  M.  de  la  Berthiere?  Who?” 

But  she  still  struggled  against  his  will,  in- 
fluenced still  by  the  obsession  of  the  primitive 
order  she  had  accepted. 

“Remember! — Or  speak  rather!”  cried 
Pomeroy.  “ I want  you  to  speak.  Do  you 
understand? — I want  you  to  speak!  You  know 
the  man  who  commanded  you  to  come;  you  see 


HYPNOTISM. 


223 


him  at  this  moment,  he  is  here — I tell  you  he 
is  here — there,  before  you — Tell  me  his  name! 
his  name!  his  name!  I want — ” 

But  he  stopped  abruptly. 

Tortured  by  the  interior  struggle,  Lucie  had 
fallen  back  and  would  have  struck  her  head  on 
the  shelves  had  not  the  old  doctor  quickly 
caught  her  in  his  arms. 

The  prison  physician  rushed  to  his  assist- 
ance, while  the  judge  and  the  chief  exchanged 
a significant  glance.  In  the  meantime  Lucie 
was  agitated  by  nervous  spasms,  her  arms  out- 
stretched, her  pale  face  distorted,  and  her  un- 
loosened hair  enveloping  her  in  a golden  veil. 

‘‘All  the  symptoms  of  hysteria!”  observed 
the  surgeon.  “ We  have  laid  too  great  a strain 
on  the  delicate  chord,  my  dear  Pomeroy.  We 
have  provoked  a dangerous  attack.  But  never 
mind;  what  we  cannot  get  to-day,  we  can 
obtain  to-morrow — Look  for  the  woman  in  the 
case  is  not  always  a true  saying,”  he  added, 
turning  to  the  judge.  ‘‘  When  the  crime  is 
feminine,  we  must  look  for  the  man!” 


224 


HYPNOTISM. 


CHAPTEE  XIII. 

A CHANCE  meeting  on  the  street  brought 
J ean  Mornas  face  to  face  with  Dr.  Pomeroy  on 
the  following  day.  At  any  other  time  the 
young  man  would  have  avoided  the  old  physi- 
cian, whom  he  considered  insignificant  and 
unbearable  with  his  idealism  and  virtues,  but 
on  this  occasion  he  listened  to  the  worthy 
man’s  conversation  with  sudden  and  deep  in- 
terest. 

Pomeroy  suddenly  recalled  having  seen  him 
follow  Mme.  Lorin’s  coffin  to  the  grave,  and 
thinking  Jean  might  be  able  to  help  him  un- 
ravel the  mystery  surrounding  the  young  girl’s 
action,  he  linked  his  arm  in  his  and  they  walked 
on  side  by  side. 

“ My  dear  young  man,”  he  said,  “ I believe 
you  can  give  me  valuable  information! — Have 
you  seen  Lucy  Lorin  very  often  since  her 
mother’s  death? ” 


HYPNOTISM. 


225 


Jean  looked  up  into  tlie  old  man’s  honest 
face,  wondering  if  the  question  did  not  conceal 
a trap. 

‘‘  No,”  he  replied,  firmly.  ‘‘  I have  not  seen 
her  at  all! — Or,  but  occasionally,  at  least — I 
have  sometimes  met  her  by  chance,  as  I met 
you  to- day.” 

‘‘Ah!  what  a pity!”  murmured  the  old 
doctor.  “ You  can  not  tell  me  whom  she  asso- 
ciated with,  then  ? Have  you  heard  of  the  ac- 
cusation brought  against  her?” 

“Yes,”  said  Jean,  feeling  an  icy  chill  invad- 
ing his  heart. 

“ I am  thoroughly  convinced  of  her  inno- 
cence,” continued  Pomeroy,  still  walking  on; 
“but  the  difficulty  is  to  prove  it! — poor 
child!” 

Then  with  the  confiding  simplicity  he  showed 
in  all  things,  he  went  on  to  relate  the  experi- 
ments tried  at  Versailles  on  the  preceding 
day  and  the  interrogatory  undergone  by  the 
hypnotized  girl. 

Jean  Mornas  stopped  short  ; and  the  strange 

15 


220 


HYPNOTISM. 


expression  of  his  features  astonished  even  the 
unsuspicious  old  doctor. 

“ What  is  the  matter?  ” he  queried. 

‘‘Nothing,”  returned  the  youug  man,  mak- 
ing an  effort  to  conceal  his  emotion.  “ I admire 
your  idea.  To  conquer  suggestion  by  sugges- 
tion, is  a grand  conception  i ” then  he  added 
with  a forced  laugh:  “ This  is  hypnotic  home- 
opathy.” 

“ Exactly  what  I said  to  myself. — But  what 
is  certain,  is  that  if  we  did  not  succeed  to-day, 
we  shall  some  day!  Such  science  is  astound- 
ing ! — To  hold  the  key  of  a soul  in  one’s  hand, 
think  of  it ! — And  I,  who  would  not  believe  in 
it,  calling  it  charlatanism!” 

“Lucie  Lorin  is  then — ” began  Jean,  with 
parched  lips  and  a fast  beating  heart. 

“ She  is  quite  ill  to-day,”  put  in  the  doctor. 
“She  lies  in  a lethargic  state,  and  my  col- 
league feared  a fatal  complication  if  we  per- 
sisted. We  shall  allow  the  frail  body  to  rest; 
but  in  four  or  five  days — and  before  that  if 
possible — we  shall  have  her  secret.  The  poor 


HYPNOTISM. 


227 


child  must  suffer  terribly.  The  shock  has 
brought  on  a nervous  paroxysm,  but  we  can 
cure  that.  What  is  far  more  to  be  feared  is 
the  accusation  that  threatens  her. — But  not  a 
word  of  this,  I beg  you!  If  I speak  of  it,  it 
is  because  I know  you  took  great  interest  in 
both  her  mother  and  herself  1 ” 

Jean  was  leaning  against  the  wall  of  Saint- 
Eustache,  looking  steadily  at  Pomeroy  and  ask- 
ing himself  how  that  white,  simple,  naive  head 
could  have  conceived  an  idea  similar  to  his 
own — an  idea  which  now  arose  like  a menace 
of  death  between  success  and  himself. 

He  tried  to  congratulate  the  old  doctor  on 
his  perspicacity,  on  the  boldness  of  his  plan, 
and  spoke  of  Lucie.  This  attack  of  hysteria 
was  not  surprising;  she  had  always  been  sensi- 
tive and  nervous!  Then  he  stopped  short,  fear- 
ing to  say  too  much  and  betray  the  secret  of  his 
observations  to  this  man  of  science.  This 
would  be  to  point  out  himself  as  the  accom- 
plice, the  instigator  of  the  crime;  and  he  de- 
termined to  bring  the  conversation  to  an  ab- 


228 


HYPNOTISM. 


rupt  termination  by  taking  his  leave  of  the 
worthy  old  man. 

‘‘Will  you  accompany  me  to  the  court- 
house?” asked  Pomeroy,  extending  his  hand. 

“No!  I have  calls  to  make — business  to 
attend  to — ” stammered  Jean. 

The  old  man  walked  rapidly  away,  leaving 
his  companion  standing  motionless  against  the 
wall,  gazing  mechanically  at  a guard  and  re- 
peating to  himself:  “ It  is  all  over  now — Lucie 
will  obey  their  suggestion  as  she  obeyed  mine, 
and  reveal  all ! — She  will  tell  what  she  has 
done — they  will  tear  my  name  from  her — and 
then — ah!  then,  Jean  Mornas,  you  are  lost!  ” — 

Lost!  Yes,  most  completely  and  assuredly 
lost!  The  doctor’s  words  came  back  to  him, 
and  he  shuddered.  He  held  “the  key  to  that 
soul,”  and  in  four  or  five  days,  the  name  of  the 
guilty  man — his  name — would  be  divulged. 
The  warrant  for  his  arrest  would  then  be 
issued.  It  seemed  to  him  he  already  heard 
the  scratching  of  the  pen  as  it  inscribed  his 
name  on  the  official  paper. 


HYPNOTISM. 


229 


He  must  fly!  But  where? — His  thoughts 
instinctively  turned  to  that  far-off  country 
where  his  old  parents  lived ; and  a strange,  in- 
explicable longing  to  see  them  once  more,  to 
embrace  them  again,  came  over  him.  It  was 
but  a mere  dim  vision  of  the  past.  From  there 
he  would  go  to  Italy  by  way  of  Villef ranch e. 
His  desertion  of  Lucie  did  not  seem  cowardly 
now;  danger  threatened  her  no  longer,  for  she 
would  evidently  prove  her  own  innocence.  How 
stupid  he  had  been!  Why  had  he  not  thought 
that  hypnotism  might  condemn  as  well  as  serve 
him.  But  then,  too,  the  death  of  the  victim 
had  disarranged  all  his  plans.  His  dream  had 
been  to  despoil  the  mandarin,  not  to  kill  him. 
The  murder  had  spoiled  it  all ; and  whatever 
might  come,  he  was  lost. 

Yes,  he  was  absolutely  lost  if  he  did  not  dis- 
appear ; if  he  did  not  place  the  frontier  between 
himself  and  old  Pomeroy’s  experiments.  There 
was  no  time  for  hesitation,  not  a moment  to 
lose.  He  returned  to  Rue  Racine,  went  to  the 
hotel,  settled  his  account  without  saying  a 


‘230 


HYPNOTISM. 


word  of  his  intended  departure,  and  packed  up 
what  was  most  necessary.  That  same  night  he 
took  the  train  for  Nice,  with  the  stolen  money 
safely  stowed  away  in  his  inside  pocket. 

With  his  face  closely  pressed  against  the 
pane  of  the  window  his  anxious  eyes  piercing 
the  surrounding  shadows,  he  tried  to  guess,  to 
penetrate,  to  question  this  Paris  he  was  leaving 
behind — forever,  perhaps — and  which  he  had 
wanted  to  conquer. 

“ Deputy  of  Paris!”  he  murmured.  “Alas! 
my  dream  is  far  from  realized ! ” - 

His  only  objector  dream  now  v/as  to  escape 
Parisian  justice. 

A flood  of  wrathful,  bitter  thoughts  over- 
whelmed him.  The  game  had  turned  against 
him.  He  might  never  again  see  this  beauti- 
ful city,  so  implacable  to  starved  beings — as 
he  was  yesterday — and  so  good  a courtisane 
to  those  that  paid.  And  he  was  leaving  at  the 
very  moment  when  he  could  pay ! What  vo- 
luptuous pleasures  surged  there,  in  that  black 
gloom,  pierced  here  and  there  with  glaring  red 


HYPNOTISM. 


231 


lights! — Bah!  were  not  such  pleasures  found 
everywhere!  But  love,  that  passion  which,  in 
spite  of  yourself,  enters  your  heart ; that  love 
'which  he,  Jean  Mornas,  felt  for  Lucie,  that 
deep,  stupid  love — in  a word,  Zow,  where 
would  he  find  it  again? 

“Ido  love  her!”  he  repeated  to  himself, 
with  ever-increasing  anguish  as  each  turn  of 
the  wheels  bore  him  further  and  further  from 
her. 

Had  he  realized  it  sooner  he  would  have  re- 
mained to  share  her  fate ; he  would  have  cried 
out  to  Pomeroy  that  very  afternoon  when  they 
had  stood  in  front  of  Saint-Eustache : “Do 
not  torture  her,  do  not  question  her,  cease  your 
researches,  I am  the  guilty  one ! ” But  then 
how  absurd  it  would  have  been!  One  does 
not  throw  the  handle  after  the  hatchet  while 
the  tree  still  stands,  neither  does  one  turn  it 
against  one’s  self  because  weary  of  the  task. 

He  gazed  mechanically  at  his  traveling  com- 
panions: an  aged  actress  going  to  seek  fortune 
at  Nice;  a stout  banker  already  snoring  under 


232 


HYPNOTISM. 


his  fur-lined  cap,  and  a young  married  couple, 
with  hands  clasped  in  each  other’s,  her  head 
pillowed  on  his  shoulder,  while  he  gazed 
vaguely  out  of  the  window  with  a much-bored 
expression  on  his  features. 

What  baseness,  villainy,  or  suffering  might 
not  be  concealed  in  these  commonplace  types? 
Did  they  suspect  him  to  be  a man  going  south 
in  search  of  immunity  from  punishment  in- 
stead of  sunshine? 

He  had  not  yet  slept  when  dawn  crept  slowly 
over  the  wintry  sky;  and  during  the  hours 
that  followed  he  turned  over  a thousand  proj- 
ects in  his  weary  head.  One  among  the  rest 
possessed  particularly  alluring  attractions;  it 
had  been  awakened  by  a conversation  ex- 
changed between  the  banker  and  the  faded 
actress  at  the  breakfast  station. 

“ You  are  going  to  Monaco,  Madame?”  had 
asked  the  banker. 

“ Necessarily,  Monsieur,”  she  had  laughed, 
“ since  my  physician  sends  me  south  to  re- 
hiiild  myself.” 


HYPNOTISM. 


233 


This  stage  witticism  had  inspired  Jean 
Mornas.  Monaco!  Yes,  that  was  the  place! 
In  one  night  he  might  doable,  nay  increase 
his  capital  tenfold.  After  all,  what  were 
thirty-seven  thousand  francs?  Nothing.  The 
sum  robbed  from  the  murdered  man  now 
seemed  paltry,  absurd,  useless,  to  this  pen- 
niless youth  of  yesterday.  If  he  could  only 
use  the  money  to  procure  his  election  to 
some  post  it  might  suffice,  since  it  would 
be  a means  of  providing  for  the  future. 
But  now  that  the  soil  of  France  was  slip- 
ping away  from  beneath  his  feet,  now  that 
he  must  fly  from  pursuit  and  accusation, 
what  was  such  a miserable,  ridiculous  sum? 
Nothing,  nothing,  nothing! 

Why  not  attempt  to  increase  it?  Why 
not  try  his  luck  at  the  wheel? 

“ He  who  is  unlucky  in  love  is  lucky  at 
roulette,”  he  chuckled  to  himself. 

Then  he  thought  of  Lucie,  whom  he  should 
never  again  see. 

“ Never!  Why  not?”  he  asked  himself. 


hypnotism. 


234 

Once  rich,  he  would  go  — he  knew  not 
where  — but  straight  before  him,  to  Egypt, 
to  India,  to  some  spot  where  in  the  odd 
promiscuousness  of  smuggled  personalities, 
of  fugitives  of  all  nations,  of  conquered 
heroes  of  many  battles  — money,  love,  or 
politics  — one  could  live  under  a false  name, 
in  a false  world,  but  in  true  luxury!  In- 
deed, the  world  was  wide!  If  need  be,  he 
might  go  to  China  — behind  the  walls  that 
close  out  the  old  world. 

In  China!  Again  his  bantering,  satirical 
humor  asserted  itself,  insulting  the  memory 
of  the  old  miser  — who  was  now  rotting  in 
the  cemetery  at  Versailles  — in  a parody  of 
the  poet,  and  he  added,  almost  aloud: 

“ Over  there  — over  there 

To  the  yellow  stream,  where  the  mandarin  is  found!” 

Once  over  there  it  mattered  not  where,  in 
some  corner  of  the  world  where  he  could 
live  in  comfort  and  luxury,  forgetting  Paris, 
that  envied  and  scorned  Paris,  he  would  write 
to  Lucie  Lorin  — who  would  then  be  free.  Yes ! 


HYPNOTISM. 


235 


he  would  find  some  means  of  informing  her 
of  his  whereabouts,  of  indicating  the  place 
of  refuge,  where  he  would  await  her,  and 
where  they  would  at  last  find  happiness — 
How  happy,  oh!  how  happy  they  should  be! 

The  rapid  movement  of  the  train  spurred 
the  activity  of  his  brain,  and  lulled  his  dreams. 

Inform  Lucie  ? But  how  ? He  must  find  the 
means  later.  Might  he  not  succeed  through 
that  absurd  old  doctor,  Pomeroy,  who,  once 
the  affair  terminated,  might  perhaps  lend 
his  assistance?  But,  in  the  meantime,  he 
must  challenge  fate,  tempt  fortune  with  his 
money.  It  was  all  or  nothing!  If  he  lost, 
he  could  find  work  at  Suez,  or  Alexandria, 
it  mattered  not  where!  Soiling  his  hands 
in  labor  would  not  humiliate  his  pride  over 
there,  since  he  would  only  share  the  misery 
of  the  wretches  around  him.  If  he  won  — 
and  he  would  win  — then  — well  then!  life 
would  be  worth  living  wherever  his  exile 
might  be! 

He  took  up  his  quarters  at  a small  hotel  e i’ 


236 


HYPNOTISM. 


the  station  at  Nice;  but  he  did  not  rest  there 
long.  Monaco  attracted  him  as  the  beacon 
light  attracts  night  birds.  But  as  he  intended 
to  go  to  Italy  from  Monaco,  he  resolved  to  first 
see  the  country  place  where  he  had  grown  up, 
the  little  house  on  the  road  to  Villefranche 
where  his  old  parents  lived.  He  therefore 
hired  a cab,  and  his  voice  quivered  in  spite  of 
himself  as  he  gave  the  necessary  directions  to 
the  coachman. 

On  the  road  to  the  left,”  he  explained, 
“ after  you  have  passed  the  Batterie  des  Sans- 
CidoUes,  near  the  grove — ” 

“The  grove  of  olive  trees?”  interrupted 
the  man.  “Yes,  I know  the  place.  You  mean 
the  Morn  as  house.  French  people  who  have 
lived  there  for  ever  so  long!  ” 

“Yes,  the  Mornas  house,”  assented  Jean. 

As  they  rolled  rapidly  along  the  smooth 
road,  he  asked  himself  if  he  should  enter  his 
old  home  and  see  his  parents.  He  could  not 
suddenly  thrust  the  door  open,  embrace  them, 
and  leave  them  after  an  hour’s  conversation 


HYPNOTISM. 


237 


only.  His  poor  mother  would  try  to  retain 
him;  and  what  innumerable  questions  his 
father  would  ask!  H©  would  question  him 
about  Paris,  medicine,  clients  and  his  future 
prospects,  and  heaven  alone  knows  what!  And 
a delay  of  a few  hours  even  might  bring  a 
telegraphic  despatch  and  the  gendarmes  at  the 
Mornas  house.  ‘^The  gendarmes?”  he  shud- 
dered and  laughed  nervously.  “ And  why 
not?” 

He  felt  a strong  inclination  to  order  the 
coachman  back  to  Nice.  But  might  he 
not  gaze  at  the  little  house  from  a distance; 
and  then  turn  back  carrying  with  him  that 
bright  sunshiny  picture  of  his  childhood  days  ? 
And  what  a beautif  ul  day  it  was ! 

The  sky  was  clear  and  bright;  the  blue, 
murmuring  sea  glistened  in  the  distance,  and 
now  and  then  he  caught  a glimpse  of  a blos- 
soming garden  as  he  rolled  swiftly  by.  How 
many  times  he  had  played,  romped,  sung  on 
this  road  in  his  boyhood! 

Suddenly,  like  a vague,  somber  shadow,  the 


238 


HYPNOTISM. 


distorted  face  of  M.  de  la  Bertliiere  seemed  to 
arise  before  him,  appearing  directly  in  his 
path  at  the  turn  of  the  road. 

The  coachman  stopped.  There  among  the 
trees,  perched  on  the  cliff  and  looking  so  white 
among  the^gray  olives,  Jean  saw  the  red-roofed 
little  house  in  which  lived  the  people  who  had 
given  him  birth  and  whose  name  he  bore. 

A narrow,  rocky  path  led  to  the  little  home, 
and  as  it  was  impossible  to  reach  it  with  horses, 
Jean  alighted. 

‘‘  Wait  for  me,”  he  said  to  the  coachman. 

He  then  ascended  the  path  slowly,  his  steps 
made  heavy  by  recollections.  Each  bush,  each 
shrub,  each  branch  recalled  a rent  in  his  gar- 
ments, a plucked  flower  or  fruit.  His  heart 
throbbed  to  bursting  as  he  neared  the  cottage ; 
and  as  he  reached  the  gate  he  shrank  back,  not 
daring  to  enter.  Going  cautiously  around  the 
house,  he  saw  old  Mornas  sitting  on  the  door- 
steps, quietly  smoking  his  pipe  and  gazing 
straight  before  him,  far  away  over  the  vast  blue 


sea, 


HYPNOTISM. 


239 


Jean  saw  him  distinctly  through  the  shrub- 
bery, and  wondered  if  his  mother  were  there 
too — she  was  not  visible. 

What  if  she  were  dead! 

An  icy  chill  numbed  his  heart,  and  his  limbs 
almost  bent  under  his  weight  at  the  terrible 
thought. 

“Upon  my  word,  I am  becoming  timid  and 
nervous!  ” he  said  to  himself.  “ Would  I not 
know  it  if  she  were  dead?  Would  my  father 
be  there?” 

Just  then  she  appeared  on  the  threshold. 
Shielding  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  she  gazed 
far  away  at  the  sea  too,  and  he  heard  the 
almost  forgotten  voice  exclaim: 

“What  a beautiful,  beautiful  day!  ” 

The  glad  ring  in  her  voice  expressed  her  joy 
in  living;  and  Jean  asked  himself  why  he 
should  disturb  this  happy,  peaceful  existence. 
Why  should  he  trouble  them  with  his  fears  and 
anxieties  ? 

How  joyously  he  would  have  thrown  his 
arms  around  the  necks  of  these  two  beings. 


240 


HYPNOTISM. 


whom  he  found  much  aged  and  broken  down ! 
— But  life  is  cruel,  alas! — Was  it  really  worth 
the  living? 

He  abruptly  tore  himself  from  the  rusty 
gate,  through  which  he  had  spied  like  a thief, 
and  instinctively  threw  a kiss  from  his  finger 
tips  to  the  two  old  people.  Then  he  hurried 
away,  blinded  by  his  tears  and  apostrophizing 
himself  as  stupid,  sentimental,  and  ridiculous. 

Once  he  turned  back  to  gaze  at  the  little 
house  once  more. 

f 

A tiny  cloud  of  blue  smoke  emerged  like  a 
breath  from  among  the  trees;  a light  vapor 
that  arose  and  dissipated  like  a mist  in  the 
bright  sun — perfume  of  the  family  table  tha- 
evaporated  like  a hope  that  dies  away. 

“ To  Nice!  ” ordered  Jean  Mornas,  huskily^ 
as  he  sank  back  in  the  seat  of  the  carriage. 


HYPNOTISM 


211 


OHAPTEE  XIV. 

The  thought  of  this  light  cloud  of  bluish 
smoke  came  back  to  Jean  on  the  following 
night,  when  he  staggered  from  the  roulette 
table  at  Monaco,  his  face  livid,  and  a dry, 
rebellious  laugh  on  his  lips.  All  was  over! 
hope  was  at  an  end!  The  roulette  had  taken 
all,  all,  even  to  his  last  sou!  Jean  Mornas  was 
unfortunate  at  play  as  well  as  in  love! 

“It  makes  me  laugh!  ” he  muttered  aloud, 
as  he  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  hotel. 

And  he  laughed  again,  with  that  wicked 
satirical  laugh  of  other  days — that  laugh  of 
bravado!  But  there  was  a tinge  of  sadness 
too  in  that  merriment,  an  expression  of  rebel- 
lion combated  and  crushed  down  by  pitiless 
fate. 

Yes,  ill  luck  had  pursued  him  with  exasper- 
ating animosity.  He  had  lost  continually,  and 

10 


242 


HYPNOTISM. 


with  hopeless  persistency ! Not  once  had  his 
number  or  color  come  out,  not  once! 

He  again  saw  the  roulette  table,  the  whirl- 
pool and  the  bored,  impassible  face  of  the 
croupier.  Bills  and  gold  coins  flowed  from  his 
hands  to  be  raked  in  by  that  ravenous  rake 
stretched  out  like  the  claws  of  a bird  of  prey 
and  greedy  as  a butcher’s  knife.  His  ears 
still  buzzed  with  the  murmur  of  the  throng 
gazing  stupidly  at  him,  and  his  blood  was  still 
fired  by  the  excitement  of  that  eternally  dis- 
puted game,  ever  renewed  with  a feverish 
pruriency  of  revenge,  and  tearing  his  fortune 
from  him  fraction  by  fraction,  his  heart  shred 
by  shred!  Kuined!  Wrecked! — All  was  now 
over,  and  in  so  few  hours ! 

His  well-planned  structure  had  crumbled 
awajH  His  crime  had  been  useless!  Nothing! 
nothing  was  left! 

What  was  to  be  done? 

Work?  Yes,  he  had  thought  it  possible 
while  he  still  held  the  price  of  his  crime  in  his 
hand;  that  insufficient  sum  he  had  tried  to 
increase  and  lost.  But  now? 


HYPNOTISM. 


24:3 


Work  where?  and  how? 

He  must  first  fiy,  and  he  had  barely  enough 
to  purchase  food  for  a week! 

What  would  become  of  him? 

Flight  and  concealment  are  possible  with 
money;  the  rich  man  awakens  no  suspicions, 
but  the  poor  man  is  looked  upon  with  distrust 
and  doubt — and  he  was  a pauper! 

A.  pauper  \ the  word  stung  him  like  a blow 
in  the  face,  like  a brand  of  infamy. 

A pauper \ What!  recommence  the  struggle, 
climb  the  rugged  path  once  more,  drag  the 
same  weight  at  his  feet,  endure  the  same  miser- 
ies, the  same  slights,  the  same  bitter  rancors — 
not  counting  the  prison  cell  that  yawned  for 
him?  No!  no!  no!  a thousand  times  no! 

The  battle  was  lost!  He  might  have  been 
the  prince  of  imbeciles  and  rascals ; but  he  was 
only  a fool  and  a scoundrel,  since  he  had  failed! 
The  comedy  was  over,  he  must  move  on  and 
make  room  for  others ! 

He  returned  to  the  hotel  and  rang  for  pen 
and  paper.  After  writing  rapidly  for  nearly 


244 


HYPNOTISM. 


an  hour,  he  slipped  one  of  the  letters  into  his 
coat  pocket,  and  left  another  and  longer  mis- 
sive on  the  table  where  it  could  not  fail  to  be 
seen.  He  then  hurried  out. 

The  letter  which  he  left  behind,  and  which 
was  found  the  next  day,  was  addressed:  ‘‘  To 
Monsieur  le  Procureur  de  la  Bepublique, 
PariSy^'^  and  contained  the  truth  concerning  the 
death  of  M.  de  la  Berthiere. 

The  missive  he  carried  with  him  contained 
but  two  lines,  an  ironical  explanation  to  his 
former  companions  who  had  applauded  the 
theories,  paradoxes,  speeches  and  audacities  of 
the  Mandarin,  in  the  wine  shops  of  the  Quartier. 
These  were  the  words: 

“ Since  the  Mandarin  must  be  killed,  I kill 
him ! It  is  I ! 

“ Jean  Mornas.” 

He  went  out  on  the  terrace  to  breathe  the 
fresh  air,  smoke  a last  cigar,  inhale  the  per- 
fume of  the  flowers,  see  the  lengthening 
shadows  of  the  palms,  and  gaze  at  the  glisten- 
ing peaceful  sea  in  the  pale  moonlight. 


HYPNOTISM. 


245 


How  good  it  was  to  live.  A snatch  of  song 
ascended  to  him,  accompanied  by  laughter;  a 
few  couples  passed  silently  by,  clinging  to- 
gether like  happy  shadows,  then  vanished. 

Jean  smoked  his  cigar  to  the  end,  and  cast 
it  away  when  it  burned  his  finger  tips. 

“ Disagreeable!  ” he  said,  nonchalantly.  “ I 
may  as  well  blow  out  my  brains!  ” 

He  seated  himself  facing  the  sea,  felt  for  the 
exact  spot  of  his  heart:  “ Since  I have  one!  ” 
he  laughed  a little  bitterly,  and  pressed  his 
finger  on  the  trigger  of  a revolver.  A detona- 
tion rang  through  the  night,  frightening  the 
sleeping  birds  who  fied  over  the  sea. 


246 


HYPNOTISM. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

The  following  day,  at  the  very  hour  when 
the  Monaco  authorities  were  preparing  the  in- 
quest over  the  suicide,  a despatch  from  Paris 
was  received  at  headquarters,  ordering  the 
arrest  of  Jean  Andr6  Mornas  accused  of  theft 
and  murder. 

Lucie  Lorin  had  spoken. 

Doctor  Pomeroy  had  torn  the  name  of  the 
guilty  man  from  the  lips  of  the  hypnotized 
girl. 

The  old  couple  who  inhabit  the  little  cot- 
tage on  the  road  to  Yillefranche  read  so  little 
and  live  such  a lonely  existence,  tliat  they 
may  never  have  heard  that  Jean,  their  little 
Jean,  their  pride  and  affection,  over  whom  they 
still  weep,  was  accused  of  a crime  at  the  time 
of  his  death. 


HYPNOTISM. 


247 


Truth,  as  well  as  calumny,  sometimes  pauses, 
hesitating  and  trembling,  on  the  threshold  of  a 
saddened  home. 

Lucie  Lorin  still  lives,  sad,  nervous  and 
delicate.  She  has  retained  but  a vague,  in- 
complete recollection  of  the  terrible  reality  of 
the  past,  scarcely  more  than  the  memory  of  a 
nightmare.  But  the  shock  to  her  nervous  sys- 
tem still  subsists.  Doctor  Pomeroy,  who  gives 
her  shelter  and  care,  has  sworn  to  cure  her  and 
bring  back  the  bloom  to  her  pale  cheeks. 

“ I was  born  to  be  a father,  Julie,”  he  some- 
times says  to  his  old  housekeeper,  “and  be- 
hold, I have  a daughter  without  the  incum- 
brance of  a wife ! ” 

The  worthy  man  is  totally  unconscious  of  the 
gossips  and  conjectures  of  the  Boulevard  de 
Clichy.  But  then,  these  malicious  comments 
would  only  make  him  laugh — or  who  knows, 
the  kind  old  soul  might  weep. 

“Ah,  that  Monsieur  Pomeroy — at  his  age, 
too!”  they  whisper  and  smile  knowingly. 
“ Either  she  is  his  daughter — the  consequence 


248 


HYPNOTISM. 


of  an  old  sin — or  something  else — a more 
youthful  sin!  Ah!  men,  men!  — That  he 
should  so  disgrace  his  white  hair! — Such  a 
shame!” 


END. 


A HISTORY  OF  THE  Ura  STATES  AiO  THE  COLOIS, 


AND  ALL  POLITICAL  PARTIES  FROM  1607. 

Containing  Six  Highly  Colored  Diagrams  Illustrating  the 
Workings  of  our  Government  at  Important  Periods, 

BY  WALTER  R,  HOUGHTON,  A.  M., 

Historian  and  Author  of  “Conspectus  of  the  History  of  Politi- 
cal Parties,”  “History  of  American  Politics,”  “Wall 
Chart  of  U.S,  History,  Literature  and  Geography,” 
“Wheels  of  State  and  National  Govern- 
ment,” Lives  of  Presidential 
Candidates,”  Etc., 


THIS  IS  THE  HOST  COMPLETE  WORE  on  POLITICAL  HISTORY  ever  PUBLISHED. 


1.  It  is  a thorough  history  of  the  United  States  by  Ad- 
ministrations and  of  the  Government  by  Congresses. 

2.  It  deals  at  great  length  Avith  Colonial  and  Revolu- 
tionary Politics  and  the  Confederation. 

3.  It  fully  discusses  the  issues  of  each  Political  Party. 

4.  It  contains  valuable  statistics  on  Revenues,  Expendi- 
tures, the  Public  Debt  and  Election  Returns,  showing  the 
popular  and  electoral  vote  of  each  candidate. 

5.  It  gives  all  the  Cabinets  and  length  of  term  each 
member  served. 

6.  It  gives  a biographical  sketch  of  each  President,  pre- 
senting many  facts  never  before  published. 

Autograph  letters,  endorsing  it  in  the  most  flattering 
terms,  have  been  received  from  leading  politicians  and  educa- 
tors throughout  the  land,  among  whom  are:  Hon.  A.  R. 
Spofford,  Librarian  of  Congress;  Hon.  S.  S.  Cox;  Hon.  S.  J. 
Randall;  Benson  J.  Lossing,  Historian. 

It  contains  more  than  500  pages,  with  six  full  page  colored 
diagrams.  - 


EXTRA  ENGLISH  CLOTH . - - $3.50.  EXTRA  FINE  SHEEP,  - - $4.00 


Sent  by  mall  on  receipt  of  price. 


EXCLUSIVE  PUBLISHER  FOR 


BILL  NYE. 

W.  R.  HOUGHTON. 


F.  T.  NEELY, 

^-o-Tollslier, 

CHICAGO. 


NEW  BOOKS 


MARTHA  WASHINGTON 
COOK  BOOK. 

A COMPENDIUM  OF  COOKERY  anp 
VALUABLE  RECIPES. 

Fully  Illustrated.  13mo.  352  Pag’es. 

Portrait  of  !M’artha  Washington.  A perfect  index  by  which 
reference  may  bo  instantly  made  to  any  recipe  for  cooking  in 
all  its  departments.  It  contains  also  a medical  department 
which  is  invaluable.  Toilet  recipes.  A complete  department 
devoted  to  personal  dress  and  etiquette.  Advice  to  mothers 
and  daughters,  as  well  as  to  young  men.  Printed  on  good 
paper  and  handsomely  bound.  Paper,  25c;  Cloth,  50c. 

“POEMS  AND  YARNS  BY  BILL  NYE  AND 
JAMES  WHITCOMB  R I LEY ”-225  pages  of  solid 
fun.  Illustrated  by  McDougal,  Zimmerman  and  others. 
Price,  25  cents ; Cloth,  $1.25. 

“SPARKS  FROM  THE  PEN  OF  BILL  NYE”- 

A collection  of  some  of  the  best  thoughts  that  Bill  Nye 
ever  thunk.  192  pages.  Price,  25  cents. 

“LOOKING  FORWARD”-By  Tennyson.  My  visit  to 
the  World’s  Fair;  who  were  there  and  what  I saw. 
Should  be  read  by  all  who  expect  to  visit  the  World’s 
Fair.  Illustrated.  Price,  25  cents. 

“THE  PEOPLE’S  REFERENCE  BOOK”-Whatto 

know  and  when  to  talk.  A book  of  incalculable  value, 
containing  a fund  of  information  and  facts,  most  of 
which  have  never  been  published.  Price,  25  cents. 
“REMARKS  BY  BILL  NYE”-The  Funniest  of  all 
Books.  150  illustrations.  500  pages.  Handsomely  bound 
in  English  Cloth,  gold  side  and  back.  Paper,  50c;  Cloth, 
$1.50. 

“HOUGHTON’S  H ISTORY  OF  AMERICAN  POL- 
ITICS”—Embracing  a history  of  the  CJ.  S..  the  Colon- 
ies and  all  Political  Parties;  also  containing  six  highly 
colored  diagrams,  illustrating  the  workings  of  our  Gov- 
ernment at  important  periods.  Finest  sheep  or  library 
binding  $4.00;  Cloth,  $3.50. 

Sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price. 

F»  T.  NEELY,  Publisher, 

CHICAGO. 


BETWEEN  CHICAGO 

LA  FAYETTE 

INDIANAPOLIS 

CINCINNATI 

® LOUISVILLE 


AND  ALL  POINTS  SOUTH. 


Pullman  Vestibu2ed  Service  on  all  night  trains. 
Parlor  Chair  and  Dining  Cars  on  day  trains. 

The  Favorite  Route  to  and  from  Florida  Points. 
Quick  Transit  and  Close  Connections. 


James  Barker,  General  Passenger  Agent, 

MONON  BLOCK, 

Chicago,  111. 


BURGLARS  OUTWITTED! 

THE  ADJUSTABLE 


Burglar-Proof  Door  Fastener 


NOTHING  LIKE  IT. 


Just  out.  Supplies  a long-felt  want,  and  sells  like  wildfire.  Grand* 
est  invention  of  the  age.  Thousands  are  using  it  and  millions 
wanting  it.  The  simplest,  cheapest  and  most  reliable  Safety  Door 
Fastener  in  the  world.  Weighs  only  one-half  ounce.  Can  be  car- 
ried in  the  vest  pocket.  Is  handsomely  nickel-plated,  and  can  be 
readily  attached  to  any  door. 


19,000  SOLD  THE  FIRST  THIRTEEN  DAYS. 

From  three  to  twelve  needed  in  every  house-  Traveling  men  buy 
it  at  sight.  Adopted  by  the  leading  hotels  of  the  country.  Recom- 
mended by  Chiefs  of  Police  and  Detectives  everywhere.  The  best 
selling  actual  household  necessity  ever  made. 

DIRECTIONS.— Lock  the  door  and  turn  the  key  as  far  as  you  can 
in  the  same  direction.  Place  the  large  hook  over  the  neck  of  the 
knob,  and  the  small  hook  through  the  ring  of  the  key.  Press  the 
sliding  hub  up  and  set  the  thumb-screw  tight.  You  may  then  feel 
assured  that  no  burglar  can  unlock  the  door. 

AGENTS  WANTED.  Sent  by  mail  for  25  cents.  Address  all 
•rders  to  HOME  MFC.  CO. 

232.S34  Flftb  Avenue,  OHXOAOO. 


. . ALWAYS  A LEADER 


• • 


THE 


tlliicago,  St.  Paul  & Kansas  City  Ry. 


RUNS 

THROUGH 

THE 

GARDEN 

SPOT 

OF  THE 

WORLD. 


'I  AND  EQUALLY  FAST  TIME  TO 

DES  MOINES,  ST,  JOSEPH,  lEATENf  ORTH,  KiNSAS  CITY 

And  all  Intermediate  Stations. 


EQUIPMENT  UNSURPASSED. 
t)OMFORT  GUARAN^F^ED  AT  ALL  SEASONS. 


Wo  B.  BUSENBARK,  F.  H.  LORD,  C.  A.  CAIRNS, 

Traffic  Manager,  Gen’l  Pass.  & Tkt.  Agt.  Asst.  Gen’l  Pass.  & Tki. 
Okieago,  111.  Chicago,  111.  ‘Chicago,  III. 


“The  Scenic  line  of  the  Werid 

Is  the  synonym  of  the 

DENVER  & RIO 

Ka^ilroacL- 

Contentment  is  the  Keystone  of  Human  Happiness.  If  business  necessities 
compel,  or  a deeire  for  pleasure  induces  you  to  travel,  remember  the  above 
synonym  and  select  the  DENVER  & RIO  GRANDE  RAILROAD  for  your 
transcontinental  journey,  and  you  will  sing,  in  chorus  with  the  countless 
thousands  who  have  traveled  over  this  grandest  of  all  scenic  routes:  “The 
fast  schedule  time  was  made  shorter  by  the  magnificent  and  entrancing  views 
through  which  we  passed.”  It  has  become  proverbial  that  business  is  trans- 
acted much  quicker  and  more  pleasantly  after  having  journeyed  over  the  Den- 
ver and  Rio  Grande  Railroad.  Is  not  this  a desideratum? 

Nature’s  sublime  exposition  of  wonders,  as  presented  to  the  tourist  from 
the  windows  of  the  superb  and  elegantly  equipped  trains  of  the  Denver  and 
Rio  Grande  Railroad,  is  not  equalled  by  that  of  any  in  America  or  Europe. 
Thousands  of  Americans  and  Europeans  have  testified  to  this  statement.  To 
visit  America  and  not  swing  around  the  Rio  Grande  Circle  of  Wonders,  sur- 
mounting the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Divide  to  an  altitude  of  ii, 600  feet,  is  like 
seeing  the  play  of  Hamlet  with  Hamlet  left  out.  Send  your  address  to  the  un- 
dersigned and  you  will  be  furnished  free  with  the  beautifully  illustrated  and 
handsomely  bound  books  entitled  “Around  the  Circle,”  “Valleys  of  the  Great 
Salt  Lake”  and  “Rhymes  of  the  Rockies.”  You  will  know  it  all,  then,  and 
marvel  at  our  modest  statements. 

All  the  leading  mid -continental  health,  pleasure,  hunting  and  fishing  resorts 
are  located  along  the  line  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railroad. 

PULLMAN  BUFFET  SLEEPING  CARS  and 

PULLMAN  TOURIST  SLEEPERS 

Furnish  the  traveler  with  all  human  comforts. 

Information  or  advice  regarding  the  grandest  of  all  rail  routes,  the  Denvei 
and  Rio  Grande  Railroad,  will  be  cheerfully  given  at  any  time,  either  by  maii 
or  personally. 

Chicago  Office:  S.  K.  HOOPEK, 

J.  W.  SLOSSON,  Gen’l  Ag’t.,  G.  P.  & T.  A.,  D.  & R.  G,  R,  R,, 

Grand  Pacific  Hotel,  Denver,  Col. 

''36  Clark  Street. 

writing:,  mention  this  book. 


CRAWLING  ALONG 

Is  -what  the  average  writer,  poet  and  journalist  is  doing  who 
doesn’t  think  it  worth  while  to  look  into  the  technical  part 
of  the  process  which  transforms  his  manuscripts  into  beauti- 
ful and  attractive  pages;  and  many,  who  are  more  enterpris- 
ing than  their  brethren,  have  seen  the  advantages  to  be  had 
from  even  an  elementary  knowledge  of  the  typographic  art, 
gave  more  of  their  attention  to  it,  and  became  prominent  in 
the  world  of  letters.  Business  talent  should  accompany 
your  literary  ability,  and  if  you  care  only  for  the  money 
handed  you  for  your  work,  and  don’t  know  how  it  gets  into 
the  hands  of  the  readers,  you  will  be  among  the  last  in  the 
race.  With  The  Inland  Printer  beside  him,  every  journal- 
ist is  assured  of  having  a valuable  aid  to  the  perfect  presen- 
tation of  his  manuscript,  and  the  ultimate  success  of  the 
result  of  his  toil.--  : -- . • - ■ - 


IF  YOU  WANT  MORE  MONEY 

of  business  you  follow,  and  believe  it  can  be  obtained  by 
judicious  advertising,  BE  ASSURED  that  The  Inland 
Printer,  unequaled  in  point  of  beauty,  will  furnish  you 
with  specimens  of  the  most  taking  ads,”  latest  forms  of 
display,  sizes  of  type  faces,  etc. , to  be  found,  and  in  a short 
time  you  can  produce  by  your  own  efforts  an  advertisement 

which  will  be  the  envy  of  your  competitors,  r- 

Printers,  pressmen,  journalists,  and  all  connected  with 
the  typographic  art,  will  find  The  Inland  Printer  replete 
with  the  newest  ideas  and  designs,  and  an  indispensable 
assistant.  It  leads  the  world  in  the  interest  of  printers  in 
every  branch  of  their  art.  It  is  full  of  beautiful  specimens, 
colored  inserts,  rulework,  engraved  designs,  and  in  fact  all 
that  is  required ‘by  the  most  fastidious  typographer.  Two 
Dollars  per  annum.  Send  Twenty  Cents  for  sample  copy. 


THE  INLAND  PRINTER  CO.,  Publishere, 

ctiicA.ao,  ii^i> 


ORE  & OHIO 

thwestern  R.  R. 

'Two  Daily  O'rains  Between 

CINCINNATI  and  NEW  YORK 

Via  Washington,  Baltimore 
and  Philadelphia. 

Vestibuled  throughout,  heated  by  steam 
from  the  engine,  and  equipped 
with  the  finest 


Pullman  Buffet, 
Drawing  Room, 
Sleeping  Gars. 


m DAILY 

TO 

PittslinrfflijPa. 

VIA 

Columbus, 
Zanesville, 
Wheeling, 

With  Pullman  Par- 
lor and  Sleeping 
Cars. 

Rates  always  as 
low  as  by  any  other 
line  and 

KO  EXTRA 
FARE 

for  fast  time  on 
limited  vestibule 
trains. 

A sk  for  Tickets  via  Cincinnati  and 
the  Picturesque  B.  & 0. 


W.  W.  PEABODY, 
Vice-President, 


I.  G.  RAWN, 
Gen’l  Supt. 


O.  P.  McCARTY, 
Gen’l  Pass.  Agent 


■M 


